


General Misconduct

by MorbidOptimist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Breast Worship, Bubble Bath, Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, F/F, Food Porn, Food Sex, Lactation Kink, MILFs, Mentor/Protégé, Mommy Kink, Older Woman/Younger Woman, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Some Plot, Strap-Ons, Teacher-Student Relationship, all characters are adults, y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorbidOptimist/pseuds/MorbidOptimist
Summary: Beset with tinges of an 'empty nest syndrome', Mom Lalonde inducts a new intern under her wing, stirring up quite a steamy office-affair until her lowering inhibitions get the best of her & she takes the easily flustered girl home.
Relationships: Rose's Mom | Beta Roxy Lalonde / Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	General Misconduct

**Author's Note:**

> For Anon.

Working for SkaiaNet Industries was something of a dream come true! 

Well, thanks to my curriculum’s On-Site Study Program, I wasn’t so much of an actual employee so much as I was  _ technically  _ an intern getting paid in experience for my many hours lacking sleep in the pursuit of  _ potential  _ future employment; but I was ecstatic to see behind the scientific curtains up close and personal in a hands-on setting. 

At least, I  _ had  _ been.

Most of the Staff were friendly enough at first, but as the semester went on I was talked over, ignored, and dismissed by a lot of the scientists. They weren't interested in hearing my thoughts or ideas unless it was to somehow ‘show me up’ or prove themselves ‘smarter’, or better studied than I was. 

It was made all the more frustrating as the scientists, who were  _ supposed  _ to be mentoring me and teaching me how to properly run the machinery and perform the tests refused to train me.

If they weren’t calling me over to tell me how my guesses were incorrect, they simply didn’t pay attention to me. 

-The other six students in my class however, were learning  _ all kinds _ of cool shit.

Nobody was asking  _ them  _ to prove themselves, over and over. 

I really hadn’t wanted to chalk it up to them being guys, but.

The reality of their gender bias was self evident. 

It was really discouraging. 

What was worse was that my teacher wasn’t much better; he had a philosophy that  _ everything  _ had to be given to the pursuit of academia. 

He’d told the entire class, on our first day no less, that if we weren’t spending all of our nights sleepless and staving off suicidal depression, that we would be ‘too weak to make it’.

I didn’t like thinking about it; it made my stomach twist in knots.

I was starting to worry about my grades; with all the remarks the Team was making about my ‘arbitrary behavior’, I was terrified my professor was going to start docking points. 

The thoughts about my situation continued to swirl around my head as they had for the last six weeks; I realized I was shaking.

I’d had enough panic attacks over the Course to recognise the warning signs.

I didn’t bother speaking to any of the Team beyond mumbling a quick ‘Bathroom’ on my way out.

Their grumbles and harsh sighs inflamed my already frazzled nerves. 

I practically ran to the bathroom. 

The shaking was worse; I could hardly stand. 

I leaned on the wall for support and tears started falling of their own accord. 

Gross, ugly sobbing. 

The realization that I was crying in the bathroom, again, only made me feel  _ worse _ . 

“-Oh my gosh, are you alright, Sweetie?” 

The feminine voice surprised me; my brain struggled to do much of anything. 

I managed to see the woman in front of me though my tear-laden fingers.

She was looking at me, concerned. 

I struggled to shove my messy feelings back down into the bottom of my chest where they belonged.

I managed a small smile and straightened my posture.

I was readying myself to speak when the woman put a hand on my shoulder.

The touch broke me. 

My walls tumbled down again and I felt myself completely lose it.

The woman pulled me into a hug I could barely comprehend and I just kept crying. 

“It’s okay Sweetie, let it out,” she murmured, as she held me. 

She swayed us slightly, rubbed her thumb soothingly against my back. 

My breath hitched a few times, and the weird gasping noises I made made the scratchiness in my throat feel worse, but I felt myself calming back back down.

-Like I didn’t have enough left in me to even cry right, or something. 

“Alright, why don’t you tell ol’ Ro’Lal what’s wrong?” 

I didn’t think. 

I just stepped back and started spilling my guts about everything.

The frustration, the humiliation, the pressures, the double standards; all of it. 

It was enough to make me want to throw my hands up and scream. 

I had to wipe my eyes a lot, since they kept leaking. 

The woman, blonde and full figured, grew tense the more she listened.

Internally, I started freaking out, wondering if she was going to tell on me and get me kicked out-

“Oh Honey,” she said, sad and furious.

I wiped at my face again and tried not to look as pathetic as I felt. 

“They’ve got no right treating you that way, it’s unacceptable,” she stated matter of factly. 

-The words were a grand relief, validation that I wasn’t somehow making everything up, but my nerves were still ridden with anxiety. 

“There’ll be no more of that,” the beautiful woman quipped, patting me on the cheek; “I’ll set them straight, don’t you worry.” 

“I just… don’t know what to do,” I confessed, “Please, I don’t want to get kicked from the program-”

“No body’s going to kick you from the program,” she promised; “They’d lose funding without their diversity quota.” 

I bit my lip, immediately wondering if I’d only been accepted for some metaphorical lip-service; the woman gently grabbed my arms and made more soothing presses with her thumbs.

It was no wonder then, that none of them thought I was capable of anything, or how little they wanted to do with me. 

“...I don’t really want to go back there,” I confessed; all I could picture was the smug look on the director’s face for ‘figuring it out’, and resigning myself to more of their mockery hurt too much to think about. 

“Tell you what,” the woman offered, as she rubbed the tears from my cheek; “What don’t you work with me? I could use an assistant.” 

She smiled warmly; it was a little lopsided but, her black painted lips looked more inviting than anything else I'd seen in weeks and her pink scarf made her otherwise imposing appearance look approachable.

I figured that as I hadn’t seen her around before, there would be a high likelihood that training under her would amount to little more than hectic secretary work, but. I was at the point where learning anything sounded good, and more than anything else, I just wanted to put some distance between myself and the team. 

The woman had also been nothing but kind and sympathetic since she’d found me; she seemed beautiful and sweet and the decision felt cemented in my mind.

I nodded. 

“Good, I’m glad,” the woman breathed, her face britenting, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you anything you need to know! I’ve practically been running this Hellhole since I was fourteen,” she quipped, exuberantly dismissive yet proud. 

Something clicked and I immediately scanned her face and labcoat, my eyes landing on the simplistically embossed namecard, fixating on the woman’s uncommon last name. 

“Wait... are you?”

“-Dr. Roxxane Lalonde, Ph.d?” she continued mirthfully, perking up her posture; “Yes dear, that’s me. I’ve headed everything from astronomy to cloning; there’s not much that goes on around here that I don’t know about. -And by the time you leave here, you’ll know more than half those circlejerking clunkheads combined.” 

I was reeling; she must’ve seen the amazement on my face because her grin widened. 

“Oh my god, you’re the reason I got into alchemy!” I gasped, “I read about your inventions in the papers when I was a kid!” 

“Don’t make a lady feel old now,” she huffed; her face was still amused as she adjusted the scarf around her neck. 

I was so shocked by this strange, wondrous turn of events that my head was still spinning. 

The woman chuckled.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Lalonde,” I murmured, still disbelieving that the living legend in front of me was real. 

“Please, the pleasure is all  _ mine _ , darling,” replied Dr. Lalonde; “Now, hold still.”

I waited as the woman walked over to the sink and moistened a paper towel before returning; she stopped in front of my face and held her hand up.

“Let me get that for you,” she cooed. 

I didn’t have time to properly think it over before she was gently wiping my face; an urge to blow my nose into the towel crept through my muscle memory, triggered from some long ago pocket of memory. 

The woman just  _ oozed  _ maternal energy. 

When she stopped I had half an urge to hug her again; I took the safer route and mumbled my thanks instead. 

“There now, now you don’t look half as distraught,” she soothed; leading me to wonder what it would feel like to have her fingers stroking my hair, before pushing the thought away.

My heart filled with gratitude. 

“Thanks,” I repeated, still feeling a little delirious. 

“I promise it’s alright now, Sweetie,” she replied, tossing the used towel into the bin; “I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.” 

A flutter ran through my chest at the thought; some genuine, honest support truly felt like a godsend. 

The woman must’ve been some kind of saint. 

“Now,” she flattened, smoothing out her coat; “Why don’t you come with me and we’ll get you started on something fun?”

“Yes please!” I applied.

“Follow me,” she offered, holding out her arm; “I hope youre. 

I slipped mine inside, linking them, and  _ finally  _ felt as though my life was getting back on track. 

~

As it turned out, Dr. Lalonde was a name that commanded respect from  _ everyone _ whether they wanted it to, or not. 

A lot of the apparent biases I’d received from the other scientists were outrights symptoms of their resentments and insecurities of the woman who had been outdoing them since before child labor laws had been introduced. 

And as her new personal protege, I could confirm that she indeed, dereserved  _ every  _ ounce of praise and accolade of accomplishment for how outstandingly intelligent and innovative she was. 

There was no problem she wasn’t afraid to jump in and tackle, and no area of study she wasn’t willing to dive into. 

Every project she touched seemed to improve or gather fruitful results; she’d walk past finicky machines that’d do nothing but sputter and fume for everyone else, and they’d magically right themselves at her presence, little maintenance needed.

She was like some kind of scientific wizard, pulling data and reliable affects from thin air. 

She started me on the alchemy machines, since I’d mentioned being interested in them; I’d been expecting to have to recite the manuel word for word from emory but, she waltzed right up to the Totem Lathe and kicked my old Team manager off without a care in the world for his reaction. 

The other students were amazed to see her but she payed them no mind; she just told me to slip on my gloves and started telling me in depth about the first time she’d ever spun her first Totem. 

And just like that, it felt like I was speeding through everything I’d been waiting for!

Totem Lathes, Cruxite Dowels, Alchemiters; everything I’d been ready to tailor my career towards! And then, as if I were a kid in Wonka’s Candy Factory, she took me deeper into the facility and showed me a world of things I’d heard of but never imagined I’d get to see in person. 

-Card Shunts, Holopads, the Ectobiology Apparatus, the list felt endless. 

In the span of a week, she must’ve shown me how to run every piece of machinery in the building and how to tinker them into submission. It had almost felt salaciously intimate, kneeling with the woman, sterilising fluid up to our chests as we replaced the collection trays at the bottom of the Grow-Out Vats. 

And the whole time she’d tell me about the different types of studies she’d done and the different sorts of results she’d found, and when we weren’t chatting about science, we talked through hours of prepwork about anecdotes and our home-lives; she told me she used to sharpshoot in her younger years, that enjoyed mythical fiction, and that she had a daughter just about my age who left home and never called. 

The thought of some girl getting lucky enough to spend upbringing showered in the Dr.’s affections and not relishing in it sparked a twisted jealousy in my gut that I was almost ashamed of. 

I felt bad for the woman, who’d clearly looked hurt at the mention of her estranged child; without thinking I offered her ‘my services’ as a replacement instead. 

She laughed, surprised; I stumbled through a hasty backtrack, apologizing for the joke until she shooshed me quiet and declared that she would be happy to take me up on my offer. 

I was greatly relieved that she seemed pleased by my joke, even so far as to be willing to play along, and for the rest of the afternoon she chided me about all the different things she would scold me for; not washing behind my ears, not looking both ways before crossing the street, talking too long with with strange men…

It was fun, and I had expected that day to be the end of it; I was thoroughly surprised then, when the days following, the woman showed no signs of letting up. 

I found myself following along a little  _ too  _ well, stretching the joke by following her ‘rules’ to the letter, or as much as I was able; she even insisted I could call her by ‘Mom’, even if her colleges were around. 

My heart fluttered at her pleased expression whenever I used it, so the term fell entirely too easy from my lips. 

Likewise, she was the only person whose petnames didn’t feel patronising, or belittling; I was confused at first, thinking that  _ should  _ have made me uncomfortable but the woman was so sweet that if she’d actually stopped using them on me I’d probably have  _ cried  _ for assuming I’d made her angry or that I’d disappointed her in some way. 

I knew I was desperate for affection, for validation and praise; it seemed disingenuous to leech it out of the woman in such little ways but I couldn’t bring myself to stop, as improper as it was. Not when her ‘well dones’ and pride-filled smiles left me feeling accomplished and endeared. Not when the touches to my arms, my hair, my face, left my knees feeling weak and my nerves feeling enflamed. 

I would have sooner stuffed myself into the Alchemeter and  _ died  _ than allow myself to bring up the fact that the quick, playfully chaste kisses we plastered on each other’s cheeks whenever I stepped into her office were probably against the rules somewhere; or how I looked forward to those greetings with a longing in the pit of my stomach that left me flustered and twitchy on the shifts she was running late. 

None of the faculty was particularly good with managing time unless it involved one of their experiments, but with how infectious Dr. Lalonde’s extroversion was, it’d made her moments of absence all the more jarring than when comparing the comings and goings of her coworkers; oftentimes throughout my work I’d be left disheartened and pining for return as I wondered what sorts of things she’d attend to without me accompanying her. 

One particular late-afternoon, Dr. Lalonde had neglected to return from her lunchbreak, entrusting me to oversee the final stretch of our data gathering myself and, when the cycle finished up I found myself brimming with the excitement of all the new data hot off the presses and into my eager hands, so much so that despite my inner-doubts, I bounded from the labs to Dr. Lalonde’s office with the hope that she’d provide a much needed contextualization of what conclusions I was really looking at; I’d been so caught up in my own momentum I’d not thought to properly knock, and in opening the door in my exuberant abandon, I caught the woman in a rather comprised state- 

-Her coat flared open, her posture serene, a strange contraption affixed to her chest that rested on her desk; for a brief moment my mind was so entrenched in the exploratory sciences of our employ that I nearly asked if the device was pumping some sort of secret chemical cocktail into her body as part of an unexplained test until my common sense flooded my system, halting the question in its tracks as I recognised the device for what it really was; a simple breast pump, attached to her glands in order to procure the no doubt nutrient-thick sustenance for some later use that I absolutely had no business bumbling in on and making a scene out of.

I shut the door in nearly the same moment that I’d opened it, cutting off both my stilted screech and whatever reply had been on the woman’s lips; I’d quickly stumbled down the hall and into the women’s restroom to collect my composer, reflecting over the accidental intimacy I’d intruded upon.

A crippling embarrassment trailed me thereafter, whenever I found myself in the woman’s presence. She hadn’t minded, and had even made a few jokes over the following week to try to tease my awkwardness about it away; I’d done my best to brush it off with her, but I knew the damage had been done.

While I had previously toed the line of platonic, professional, and sentimental interest with the woman, my reflection in the bathroom had disbanded me of all my pretense; I was no longer able to deny my creeping attraction for her and in a twisted display of self-gratifying torture, my mind continually haunted me with the erethearl image of her bare chest, blurred free of the mechanical device and swollen under my hands. 

And as terrible as I knew I was at hiding it, I didn’t want to admit my crush to her -or to myself, out of the paralyzing fear that in doing so, her quipping bantars of flirtatious companionship and doting showers of mentoral affection would stop, leaving me in a professional chasm of misery and self-imposed isolation. 

If anything, my increasing awkwardness and flustered countenance steadily worsened my attempts at casual conversation as our work continued; and in some bizarre simile of the conservation of matter, the more I struggled to keep myself ‘behaved’, the more my behaviour seemed to encourage Dr. Lalonde’s flirtatious nature, increasing the amount of  _ ‘friendly banter _ ’ we engaged in almost quid pro quo. 

-And it didn’t take long for the other staff members to notice the shift in office dynamics; with Dr. Lalonde breezing about the labs with superior seniority under her belt they had no choice but to make room for me in the proceedings. 

They tried being sneaky, at first; testing how much of their resentments they could get away with when Mom wasn’t looking, or whenever she was out of the room. 

A few of them seemed to notice my openness to her affections and got the wrong idea about what  _ else  _ they could get away with if nobody else was around. 

The ‘honeys’, ‘sugars’ from her colleagues had left sour tastes in my mouth when I’d first started working under them, having left me feeling uncomfortable and a little creeped out; and then when it’d become clear none of them were treating me as a capable student in my own right, their petnames felt downright depersonalising, as if I wasn’t even  _ worth  _ remembering by my real name. And when a couple of them tried to push back against Dr. Lalonde’s efforts to have me included, they tried to physically shoehorn me into a more supplicated position with ‘plausibly deniable' hands to my shoulders, knees, and waist. 

These newer jabs at my honor however, stung in a special kind of way that I hadn’t accounted for; after a few times of catching me wiping away tears as she joined my shifts, she pulled another professional confession about it out of me.

My complaint hadn’t seemed to surprise her, prompting me to wonder if she’d more or less expected such behavior from her colleagues; she’d smiled, ruffled my hair, and told me not to let them get under my skin. 

Mom turned their other tactics back against them with a passive aggressiveness that left me both impressed and a little cowed; she refused to call any of her male cohorts by name and it left them infuriated and every time I watched their faces contort with withheld rage, my chest felt a little lighter. 

She also told me to call them out on it with threats to HR whenever they were making me uncomfortable, and that she would back me up on it; I was still afraid of getting blacklisted so it wasn’t until my own classmates started mimicking their trainer’s views that I got up in arms about everything. 

Then the insults and rumors started up; after refuting their advances, they not only told me to  _ my face _ that they  _ knew  _ I was sleeping my way to the top, but that I was apparently (for rejecting their  _ literal  _ offers to sleep with them for better grades, and ‘more opportunities’,) that I was even doing it  _ wrong _ . 

Terrified that their talk would dissuade Dr. Lalonde from mentoring me further, (and equally terrified that they’d called out my secret desire to bed the matron,) it was the last straw that broke my back and snapped me into some righteous more of self-indignant fury. 

I handed names and statements to a little old lady in HR; luckily for me, Mrs. Paint had some pretty deep connections cause almost overnight, everyone in the labs had started to panic. The scientists scrambled to cover their own asses while two of my classmates apologized; the others took a less dignified approach and tried to lay everything back on me, citing things like ‘well what did I expect?’, which made me angry enough to take it up with the schoolboard. 

-That got my professor worried enough to backpedal and recant his own statements, though I didn’t accept any of his insistent apologies. 

It was like I had been hit with some of Dr. Lalonde’s weird magic; my confidence permanently uplifted and every mind-numbing form I was filling out brought me almost immediate results. 

And every action I took seemed to make Dr. Lalonde even more proud of me; the success of power was intoxicating.

Mom had inspired me to speak for myself and to stop letting men talk over me without standing up for myself, something she’d had to deal with at her time of being a young child in a laboratory filled by unregulated, self-assured men. 

In taking the woman’s lessons to heart, I had gained a reputation from them all for being ‘arbitrary’ and ‘difficult’, but I didn’t care.

My grades were  _ flying _ ; every recommendation Dr. Lalonde gave me was  _ glowing _ , and it caught the attention of Dr. Scratch, head of SkaiaNet  _ himself!  _

The _ boss of the entiere corporation  _ congratulated me, personally. 

In the span of a couple weeks, I’d learned more than in the entirety of my prep years! 

My professor tried to take the credit, claiming he’d always ‘seen the potential in me’ as if he’d been the one to give me any sort of help or training, and ‘Mom’ Lalonde shut him down with a viciousness I hadn’t guessed the woman capable of, making me incredibly grateful that I was on the woman’s professional good-side. 

I burned the paled look on my professor’s face into my memory, for how cathartic it felt. 

There was some shouting from the other scientists and some of my classmates before Dr. Scratch shut the conversation down; he said something about instilling some mindfulness into his staff, which they didn’t sound pleased about. 

It was fucking  _ glorious _ . 

Later that evening, I was sitting in the breakroom with Dr. Lalonde, still riding the high from the small service of justice I’d just been witness to. 

“Thanks Mom,” I offered, still just, taken aback by all the kindness and support the gorgeous, charismatic woman had shown me.

Dr. Lalonde waved her hand elegantly, dismissing the thought; “Girls gotta’ stick together, ‘specially in the scientific fields.”

I nodded, and focused on rubbing my knees to avoid staring at her; far too often, I’d caught myself fawning over the curves of her labcoat and I was terrified of making her uncomfortable. 

“I hear your semester is coming to a close next week,” she led; she’d pulled a glass out of seemingly nowhere, and the wine red liquid complimented the deep, blacker-than-black of her lips. 

I tried to swallow my disappointment; I’d been so caught up in the rush of everything, I’d almost made myself forget the looming deadlines of when it all would end.

I didn’t want it to end. 

I didn’t want to leave Mom behind; I would miss her too much to never see her again. 

There was a glass in my hands, as if it had always been there, and my liquidated reflection marred the image of my face before I took a sip of my own; my mind flashing back to the canisters on her desk, and the tubes that had been affixed to her chest. 

I wasn’t much of one for drinking, but it always felt right to do so in Mom’s personal company. 

I wondered if I should have been worried that I couldn’t clearly recall the number of late evenings we’d spent, sipping indulgences while on and off the clock, or the times I’d sat across from her while my mind callously envisioned the woman in stages of accelerated breathing and states of undress. 

“I took the liberty of calling up a friend of mine for you,” she stated, crossing her legs; the movement caught my attention first, -a bad habit I was trying to break. The slivers of her thighs flashing for only a peak whenever she crossed her legs held me spellbound every time. 

It was like they were magnetic; I was surprised she’d never caught me staring.

The formality in her tone, however, made me nervous to focus on her face more scrutably; the air of professionalism was such a rarity between us that I felt as if she was gearing up to scold me and send me to my room. 

I felt preemptively ashamed of myself, for disappointing her in some way. 

“Jake Harley, a mentor of mine back in the day. He’s overseeing some interesting programs that I think you’d benefit from. -He’s offered you a job on his team, if you want it.” 

I was floored. 

I managed not to spill my drink, but it was a close call. 

Dr. Lalonde continued on. 

“His team is much more inclusive, and you won’t be overshadowed by my legacy here,” she explained; her tone fell softer, touching back into the deep well of concern I’d come to rely on in the woman; “It’s up to you of course what you want to do after all this. I just want you to see your full potential realized.” 

The offer sounded ludicrous.

Were it anyone else, I would have pressed for details, worried about expenses. 

But the presence of Mom Lalonde was too familiar for me to worry about anything of the kind. 

I trusted her implicitly. 

My want to  _ please  _ her, won out over any need for rationality. 

By her word alone, I was certain that it was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity. 

“Tell him I’ll take it,” I nearly shouted; I gripped the edge of my seat to keep from leaping to my feet. 

“Excellent!” Dr. Lalonde preened; “I think we should celebrate!” 

Intrigued, I nodded eagerly. 

“Tell you what, how about you and me get out of this depressing pile of tile and concrete and have a party over at my place?” she asked baitingly; there was a hopefulness to her posture that I wanted to appease, and it seemed as though she was both aware of that fact, and pulling at it on purpose. 

-In fact, I was  _ certain  _ Mom knew how attractive she was, and the effects she had over people, myself included. 

Still. 

Even if she  _ hadn’t  _ been my hero, factually speaking she was one of the  _ only  _ other women in the entire faculty.

I could easily assume from my own experience, just how  _ desperately  _ the woman had probably wanted a female coworker to josh around with; all the flirting and jokes to my reactions had probably all been the woman’s attempts to seem ‘hip’ and ‘fun’ enough to befriend someone decades her younger with any sort of success, -a conclusion that felt a little bittersweet, but safe in assumption. 

With how lonely I’d also been for decent companionship, I’d made zero effort to dissuade her from bonding to me in such a way over the course of our relationship, and I felt utterly guilty for conditioning the woman to buy into my unprofessional interests.

Yet, even as I was fully aware of my selfishness, I was powerless to hold myself from it.

The knowledge that it would likely be the last opportunity I’d have to spend time with the woman ripped a sharp pain through my heart; even if nothing came of it but bitter misunderstandings, it was a proposition I couldn’t pass up. 

“I’d love to,” I agreed.

“Wonderful,” she replied, clapping her hands together, “Oh this’ll be so much fun; I’m right next door so we can head on over after we’re finished up here. -Let’s say Friday night?” 

“Sounds great!” I answered, already eager to spend more time with the wonderful woman.

~

The last few days at the labs were bittersweet; it felt as though the final week had flown by before I’d really gotten a chance to process anything beyond tidying up the last of the paperwork.

On the last night everyone stayed after, exchanging numbers and novel anecdotes in an impromptu office party.

Someone had brought donuts and an hour or so in alchimated booze was brought out and I was laughing with the rest of them.

Another hour or so in, and Dr. Lalonde shot me a wink.

She walked over, doling out farewells and welldones to the other students as she passed them, eventually making it over to me. 

She tapped my arm and we slipped out of the office and into the hallway. 

I was feeling pretty good, and Ms. Lalonde seemed in good spirits as well, though I could tell there was something on her mind. 

As we passed into a side corridor, I noticed the beautiful landscape outside, and one strange looking tower peeking up over the pine trees in the distance. 

“Home sweet home,” Dr. Lalonde murmured, pausing a moment; she adjusted her scarf and urged me on again. 

“You must have the best commute in the business,” I joked, looking back to her. 

She smiled, and led me down a few flights of stairs and to a holopad I hadn’t noticed before. 

It spirited us away with a flash, and we found ourselves in an oddly green tinted room; for a moment I thought we were still in SkaiaNet’s labs, but none of the equipment looked modern or properly quartered off. 

“Home sweet home,” Dr. Lalonde sighed happily; “Back when I had my daughter, I moved some things here to my personal lab; these models are so old now, the company let me keep them.”

Astounded, I looked around; personal achemizers? Home Grow-Tube vats? 

-Everything was here! 

It was no wonder the woman was a whiz at every subject she touched! 

She had it all at her fingertips!

My gaze swiveling from all the outdated tech to the plethora of storage cubes and back to Ms Lalonde again. 

“It was a bit more impressive, twenty years ago,” she quipped; she tossed her scarf tails over her shoulder and clapped twice. 

Instantly, the lights came on, revealing the true expanse of the room we were in. 

Judging from the dimensions I could make out, it looked like the place was as large as some of the floors at Skaia, if not bigger; a realization that both took me by great surprise, and filled me with a rather large sense of excitement. 

The oddest thing that struck me was perhaps, the rows and rows of batteries gridded along the floor; I wondered if the old tech needed them all to run, or if there was some unseen use for them somewhere I couldn’t yet make out. 

The notation was a little preemptive, as I was soon to learn; I followed Dr. Lalonde along the rows of equipment until we came to some hominess nestled between all of the machinery.

A spot of pure anomaly that had me chuckle with confuzzled bemusement; almost comically, a small, frilly pink bedroom-set doted in an avalanche of adorably dressed wizard-cat plushies sat unassumingly in front of us, as if it wasn’t impractical or surreal in the least.

At random as it felt, my heart warmed at the sight because the longer I stared at it, the more it simply  _ radiated  _ Mom Lalonde’s personality. 

-The fact that most of it was pink down to the letter is really what sold for me. Her scarf, her pens, her notebooks; hell, if it weren’t for her pretense of acting professional in the office, it wouldn’t have surprised me if one day the effervescent woman traded her sterile whites for glittercore hazmats and be done with it. 

As the thought finished coagulating in my mind, a dart of movement startled me; I jumped back as the blur burst out of the piles of stuffed toys and ran past my legs.

I’d barely blinked before the dark shape was already gone.

“That’s one my cats, Dear don’t worry,” Dr. Lalonde said as she put a hand to my shoulder, steadying me; “There’s a fair few of them still running about the place, -cloning project, while back,” she explained. 

Finding nothing out of the ordinary at that, I relaxed again. 

Amused by the tiny teaset and pink plastic chairs next to the bed, I started rifling through the little cups and saucers, and delighted over the adorably small forks and spoons. 

As I was looking them over, Dr. Lalonde bent beside me to pick up the teapot; her bangs hid her eyes, but she smiled as she reached over and pretended to pour me a cup of tea.

“Drink up, Sweetie,” she instructed playfully.

Pinky out, I shot her a smirk before playing along and pretended to down the imaginary drink, making a satisfied exhale when I had ‘finished’.

A slight chuckle escaped the woman as she set the pot back down. 

She turned around and gently sat on the bed, prompting a few of the stuffed animals to topple over; as she crossed her legs, I felt my heartbeat flutter. 

Slowly, I moved to join her.

The bed squeaked slightly as I sat; my movement sent one of the cat-wizards tumbling from the pillows down onto the floor, making me feel a little bad for the inanimate guy.

The slight sour note spurred my thinking; as cheerful and oddly anomalous as the small bedroom set was, my mind raced to name the possibilities of why the woman had them here at all. 

-As well as why she might have brought  _ me  _ to see them; and my mind could only conjure one, albeit hopeful, hypothesis. 

“You look so tense dear,” she murmured, looking me over; I felt my pulse began to quicken as I begged my brain not to fill my thoughts of her, and myself, and not very many clothes between us. 

She leaned towards me, bridging the space between us and my heart leapt into my throat. 

Her hand cupped my chin and my eyes felt as wide as saucers; “-Why don’t you let me help you with that?” she asked, her lullnig tone mysterious and sweet. 

My mouth nearly managed a syllable in surprise before her lips were pressing against my own; it was nothing like the couple of clumsy kisses I’d traded with my dormmate's best friend back at our school’s new year party in my first semester. Those kisses had been quick, darting pecks that left us all giggling and awkwardly nervous without really knowing why. 

This kiss was nothing like that.

Ms. Lalonde kissed me slowly, deliberately. 

She knew what she was doing.

It dawned on me, with a singular intensity, that this was a woman who was far more experience than myself in nearly all fields of study; a woman at least twice my senior that had a child, a past, and probable past partners while I, fresh in the scene of adulthood, was as to her an empty canvas. 

A test tube not yet affixed in the centrifuge. 

I didn’t know if I could measure up; if it would even be possible, to measure up, even to the low standards she’d likely set.

All I was certain I had working in my advantage, was that I wanted to impress her. 

And from the way my body leaned towards her to feel more -the fact that I  _ needed  _ to feel more, convinced me that Dr. Lalonde  _ had  _ noticed my desires, and that my eagerness to perform to her discretion was in some way flattering for her. 

-She put just enough pressure on my lips in just the right places to part them; I inhaled sharply as Dr. Lalonde deepened our open-mouthed kiss. 

I moaned, as her tongue slid slowly into my mouth, the saliva coated muscle curled and pushed inside me with a deftness that had me wanting to grab her, to pull our bodies closer. 

I didn’t want it to stop. 

-It was everything I’d longed for, for so many cruel hours working beside her, too afraid to let go and too afraid to reach out and touch. 

Her hand pushed my chin away, breaking us up; my eyes flicked open to study her face.

“There,” she lilted, sounding quite pleased; “There’s that cute little smile I like to see.” 

My face was instantly inflamed. 

I felt the heat burning at my ears. 

-And the slight twinges of restlessness pulling at my thighs. 

My mouth was too nervous to speak; I wanted her to kiss me again, but the thought of doing so was incredibly daunting; she’d kissed my cheeks before, the corners of my lips, my brow. 

It wouldn’t be beyond her to kiss me and laugh, carrying on with our work as if a kiss was a basic affection between friends. 

I didn’t want to assume; my heart already began to sting.

Her face remained nearly an inch, from my own.

Practically breathing the same air that I breathed. 

“Come now, you don’t have to be so shy with  _ me _ , Darling,” Mom continued, moving her hand from my face, to glide it gently over my hair.

My mind didn’t quite white out, but it almost blanked as I moved reflexingly, allowing her greater ease to pet my hair any way she might like.

Her fingernails trailed just slightly against my scalp, sending shivers down my spine.

“After all our time together, becoming such good friends... We’re both big girls,” she pointed out un-erroneously, “You can tell lil’ol me what has that pretty face of yours so nice and red, can’t you? Come now, Momma knows how to keep a secret,” she coaxed. 

I gulped; it felt like I was caught in a panic attack, but nothing like the kind I’d usually dealt with. 

Dr. Lalonde’s voice had always been smooth and butter-sweet, laden with what I had assumed to be accidental innuendos and friendly jokes, but hearing it now, so low and husky with all pretense of plausible deniability gone, I was a wreck. 

Cobbling a reply together took a great deal of concentrated effort, but I was proud of myself when I’d finally managed a shaky breath and better posture; “I… guess we are afterhours, right Ma’am?” I asked tentatively, a hint of bravery in my chest. 

“Try again,” the woman lilited, her tone encouraging and expectant, “We both know what word you’re looking for.” 

I bit my lip, stalling as I thought. 

Logically, I knew from past experience that the woman preferred I call her ‘Mom’, and it even almost felt like that was what she was looking for.

...But it wasn’t what I’d  _ honestly  _ been thinking about.

It was a point of direct decision; one I knew I had to take charge and responsibility for.

Hesitantly, I let my libido speak over my brain.

“Mommy?”

Dr. Lalonde smiled. 

- _ ‘Mom’ _ Lalonde, stroked her hand along my head again, and I let out a breath of relief-tempered surprise at the unbelievable outcome of my proposition. 

I supposed I was still making a mountain out of a molehill, but it was still a minor weight from my chest. 

She continued to stroked my hair, far longer than she’d ever done before.

I felt some of my anxieties float away, just from the soothing sensations; the repetition and closeness of the moment did a great deal to lighten my spirits.

As her attentions continued, my body’s reaction to it began to shift; unused to the sustained contact as I was, I didn’t quite know what to do with the restlessness I began to feel.

Not wanting her to stop, or draw attention to my awkwardness, I attempted to slip away some of my mounting jitteriness by subtly shifting my thighs. 

She pulled her hand away leaving me hungry for her warmth and innerly cursing my decision to move, and my eyes drifted down to the buttons on her labcoat; I envisioned the way her impressive chest would feel beneath my palms against how it would feel to bury my face between them and quickly turned my head to keep her from seeing my reddening cheeks.

I picked up one of the toy wizard-cats and pretended to study its stitching to keep her from suspecting anything.

-The toy was fairly cute, admittedly. 

Soft and friendly looking; shaped like a friend. 

I wondered if it belonged to the woman, or if we were sitting almost her daughter’s neglected belongings.

I wondered if humoring me filled an absence in her life I’d pointedly neglected asking about; I wondered if I was just a number in a string of data she’d no doubt collected over the years, if she was humoring me to prolong her glorydays, if it was even reasonable to be doubting myself so much, or weather any of it even mattered. 

I wanted her to kiss me again. 

I needed her to touch me, to encompass me. 

The toy squished in my hands with a tiny squeak as I felt Mom’s hand at my back.

She leaned over, her mouth brushing just slightly against the rim of my ear; purposefully, seductively. 

I pushed the plushy between my thighs reflexivity as I inhaled, her proximity spurring all sorts of thoughts and feelings inside both my body and my mind. 

“I think we both know what you want, Kitten,” she all but  _ purred _ , confirming my hopes; “You want to spend some time with Mommy, don’t you?” 

The hand at my back worked a soft circle; her lips glided softly along my cheek as her other came to rest on my thigh, messaging her hold when her other hand stilled. 

“Yes please,” I agreed, my thumbs pressing into the wizard-cat so hard that his little belly was nearly flat against the blankets. 

“Again,” she ordered, her hand disappearing from my back as her nails dug into my thigh; the hint of the warning stirred up conflicting feelings of intrigue and hesitance under my chest. 

“Yes Mommy,” I tried again, hoping that I would be able to correctly play whatever game I was now embedding myself into without giving the woman too many more disappointments. 

“Good,” she breathed, her nails palming back into gentle rubs; “You learn quick,” she drawled, “Look at me, little girl.”

With my teeth nearly embedded in my lip, I turned slightly, to look at her. 

The pit of my stomach tried to flip up and roll over knowing that she knew exactly what was one my mind, that she knew what was on both of our minds, her face so very close to mine. 

“You should play more nicely with your toys, Darling,” she murmured, the hand on my thigh drifting along; she smoothed over my fingers, plucking the tension out of my hands until the plushie expanded in a sigh of relief. 

I trembled; I’d envisioned the woman’s hand drifting casually between my thighs so many times that now it was happening, I was painfully aware of how responsive to her touch I really was.

I was completely at her mercy, and the realization was as jarring as it was alluring. 

“Why don’t you put him with all of his friends for a bit, hmm?” 

She asked it casually, but the weight of her leaning against me betrayed her probable intentions; without protest, I passed the plushy to the others on the pillows and looked back to Dr. Lalonde. 

Her posture was as coquettish as it was coy.

Her hand settled around my jaw as the other pulled me to turn to her completely. 

“Mommy has some fun games for us to play,” she teased, thumbing my cheek, “Doesn’t that sound nice after you’ve been waiting so long...”

“Yes Mommy,” I agreed, her thumb brushing across my lip; I leaned forward instinctively, attempting to catch the kiss that wasn’t there. 

She smiled, pleased. 

“Good girl,” she confirmed; “Mommy’s been waiting to play with you, too.” 

My attention hung on her every word, her every movement. 

I stared at her face as she looked over mine, hoping to catch a glimpse of her elusive eyes behind her pretty, side-swept bangs. 

She pulled back.

I started to follow her until she put a hand to my chest; I halted respectfully, curious to see what she intended to do. 

Her hands drifted under her scarf. 

I watched enraptured as they moved, hidden from my view until they fell to the next button, slowly undoing that one as well, and then the one beneath that, and further. 

I felt startlingly aware of myself and how my body was responding; my embarrassment, while still tempering, was becoming overshadowed by a dizzying excitement that didn’t care about consequence or dignity. 

My heart beat faster as the fabric split open across Mom Lalonde’s front, teasing me with a peak of her soft, soft flesh.

And then she pulled her shoulders free, leaving a luxurious stretch of skin between the top of her black laced bra and the bottom of her hand-knit scarf. 

She peeled the coat down to her navel, her arms still loosely contained in their elegant black sleeves.

I crawled closer, though there hadn’t been far to go; a breath and her bra, became the only space between her breasts and my face. 

“Do you like it?” she asked warmly, her hand threading my hair again; “I thought of you when I put it on this morning.”

“It’s very pretty Mommy,” I answered cleanly, my mouth beginning to water; “Just like you.”   
“Thank you, Sweetie,” she chirruped brightly, filling me with simple pride.

I traced the pattern with my finger, testing her permission, before curling my fingers over the hem in attempt to sneak them beneath. 

“Yes, yes, hold on,” she chided, her voice tickling with amusement as she shifted away again; “Mommy knows what you really want,” she allotted. 

I felt a little guilty for being so impetuous, but I found it harder to care, or think in general, as my excitement grew. 

She pulled the straps off her shoulders and bent an arm around, undoing the garment with a small ‘snap’, as the small metal catch scraped its way undone. 

She made a small show of clasping the cups in her hands, her black-painted lips still smiling, before neatly hanging the garment on the post at the foot of the bed beside her.

My mouth was at her breasts before she could turn back to me; my hands eagerly kneaded into them in greeting, and dimly, I was vaguely aware of the woman wrapping her arm around my back to pull me closer, her other hand returning to my hair. 

“ _ Good girl, _ ” she purred, long and smooth; pressing me against her chest. 

I took a moment just to enjoy the feel of her against me, her natural warmth coupled with the hefted weight of her breasts proved to be a snuggly miracle of comfort. 

I was beyond myself with delight; I cast prayers and thanks to whatever karmatic domino chain of events had machinated this beautiful, sexy woman into my life as I licked and kissed every part of her chest I could reach. 

After a few minutes of smooshing my face around her generous glands, my lungs protested the lack of oxygen enough that I began struggling in her grasp. 

“It’s nice to finally play with Mommy’s tits, isn't it?” Mom chided, the mirth in her silky drawl eliciting a rush of embarrassment; I tried to ignore the feeling of my lungs crushing in on themselves, and pushed my face harder in her chest. 

As I began feeling a bit lightheaded, I also grew aware of a slight dampness on my cheek; at first, I assumed it was a slight sheen of sweat forming between our flushed skins, but it seemed too localized and odd in quantity for that to be the case. 

I thought perhaps, in my lusty haze my eyes had begun to water; and while they did feel damp, it certainly didn’t explain the position in which the fluid had occurred. 

Needing to breath, I pushed myself off her chest just far enough for my nose to make good use of it self, and flicked my eyes open in the process; in the initial second it took, the grand mystery revealed itself to me as I took in the view of the wetness smeared around her breasts and immediately felt embarrassed and awestruck over what should have been another obvious realization.

I watched, fascinated, as chalky white fluid pebbled out of her engorged nipple caught between my fingers; my tongue flicked out on its own accord, some primal or baser instinct driving my body without my brain’s functional input making use of the opportunity I’d so longed for.

The woman sighed, a hint of gratitude in her graceful lull. 

She tasted different than the store bought gallons I was used to; the warmth of her milk was the greatest surprise, though I suppose it wouldn’t have been.

-I felt I would have made several more intelligent guesses about things, had I ever been in a more rational state of mind around the woman. 

And it seemed only natural to latch my mouth over the appetizing teat; my body already awakening in a few new hungers from its discovery. 

I used my tongue to slide it deeper into my mouth, the basic power of suction pulling it the rest of the way, spurts of her decadent lactation stemming along with it.

“That’s good Baby, just like that,” Mom cooed, broadening my confidence; she shifted her thighs and I had just a fraction of the thought that this might have been as arousing for the woman as it was was for me, before her sputtering flow began pooling more steadily inside my mouth, sliding over my tongue and trickling down my throat in larger gushes with every suckling kiss I took. 

“Such a good girl, drink it all up,” she insisted, nestling me proper. 

I hummed a long, grateful moan into her breast, thoroughly fawned by her taste cascading deeper into my belly with every swallow. 

It was bliss.

I was in heaven, and Dr. Lalonde an angel; her breasts were an ocean, and inside them was a drinkable ocean. 

I sank into her quiet lull; time was an irrelevant, foreign concept.

All manner of focus and thought faded into a drifted trance as I drank, with only the sound of her sigh-filled humming and the increasing dampness of my arousal entrenching me in reality. 

As thrilled as I’d remain to have only the blessing of sucklnig her breasts bestowed me, I dared begin hope that I could coax the woman to indulge me further. 

I messaged the nipple I wasn’t sucking on, hoping the stimulation would fuel some of  _ her  _ instinctual desires. 

She made a few elongated, pitch-wavering sighs; I felt promiscuous with power. 

Hoping to draw her attention to the need swelling inside my cunt, I started shifting my weight to allow for a better position; I didn’t want to dislodge my mouth for even a second, so I had to pull her with me as I rolled onto my back.

She seemed to understand what I was going for and adjusted with me, cradling me in her lap with one propped knee and a coddling arm, while her gorgeous, succulent breasts rested perfectly within mouth’s reach, which left me delighted and relaxed, and my cunt practically quivering. 

The change in position was infinitely more comfortable than suckling her on hands and knees; though leaning over me as she was, still sitting on her rear, Mom’s posture hadn’t changed much at all. 

Mom’s free hand smoothed over my shirt, making me realize what a terrible thing it was, that all humans had to go around wearing clothes when simply remaining naked would make access far more instantly gratutiots in situations such as this. 

I whined around her nipple and shifted my hips, hoping to give her the message. 

She chuckled, but didn’t stop her admittedly pleasant ministrations on my stomach; I bucked my hips again, to similar avail.

“Someone’s feeling fussy,” she tutted, leaving me frustrated; I sucked harder at her breast, practically dying for her to notice my need.

“Now Kitten, you have to tell Mommy what you want,” she demanded; her tone serving both promise and a warning. 

I whined a frustrated groan, giving up my hold on her warm, sweet flesh, promising myself that it would only be for a moment. 

“Touch me Mommy,” I begged, all semblance of timidity gone. 

“Is that how good girls speak to their Mommys?” she asked, her gorgeous breasts lactating streaks of consumable beauty; she dropped her hand and adjusted her legs, taking away my perfect resting place as she crossed them.

With a shot of panic I cried, “Please Mommy, touch me! I’ll be good, I promise!” 

She hummed, soothing my fears somewhat. 

“You want Mommy to touch you, Darling?” she repeated; I nodded eagerly as she leaned closer to me, her face inches from mine; “Are you ready for that, little girl? Do you understand that when Mommy touches you, she’s going to fuck you all night long? Do you want that Baby? Do you want Mommy to use you all up, till she’s good and satisfied, and your body is all used up and ruined?” 

My body felt like it was a thousand degrees and shooting higher; I nodded, nearly jumping on my knees for how grateful I was for Mom’s proposed desires. 

I wasn’t above literal begging, now.

“Yes Mommy, please fuck me,” I whined, already eager to impress; “Whatever you want, I’ll make you feel good I promise!” 

“And you’ll do exactly as Mommy says, won’t you? You won't come until she tells you,” she pressed, tucking my bangs behind my ear; “And then you won’t  _ stop  _ cumming until she tells you?” 

“I promise Mommy, whatever you want,” I agreed readily, my body already shaking at the prospects. 

“Good girl,” she praised, filling me with immediat, weight-lifting pride.

“Now, do you want Mommy to help take your clothes off, or do you want to show off for Mommy?” she asked, her tone entirely serious. 

“Please help me Mommy,” I begged, eager to feel her hands on me in any capacity. 

She smiled and stood up, plushies tumbling to the floor; she took a moment to shrug off her labcoat entirely, leaving her clad only in the pink scarf draped sensually around her neck, and a pair of black, lacey panties that  _ hardly  _ concealed  _ just _ enough to make my mouth  _ drool  _ at the thought of getting my tongue or sticky fingers wedged underneath. 

“Arms up, Kitten,” she ordered, breaking me from my waking wet-dream; I obeyed instantly, and snuck in a kiss as she moved to tug the shirt over my head. 

I tried valiantly to sneak in a few more as her hands dipped to my waist and nimbly tasked about undoing my pant clasps. 

I hopped onto my feet as she slid them off of my hips; I took a moment to enjoy the feel of her pretty, fluffy locks threading through my fingers until she stood up again.

“Much better, don’t you agree, Kitten?” she asked huskily; I hummed in agreement and excitedly waited for her next instruction, feeling both incredibly exposed and elated whilst being clad only in my underwear.

“Looks like Mommy wasn’t the only one who wanted to dress up for our playdate, hmm?” she sang, eyeing me over with some interest. 

My teeth worried over my lips and with soft restlessness, drying them out just as fast as my tongue could dart out to re-wet them. 

Mom’s hands came to encompass my face, cupping it as though I was some cherishable fetish; I sighed dreamily as her lips found mine and again, I was taken aback with how her kisses alone could pull butterflies and flip-flopped groans from my very core. 

She drew back and her hands slid down my neck, across my collarbones, and to my shoulders where they splayed and dug in, forcing me back onto the bed. 

“Now now; what is Mommy going to do with you, little Pet?” she sang, her black-painted smile shimmering above me like a saintly apparition. 

“Fuck me until my brains don’t work?” I offered, every fiber of my being quivering in hopeful delight. 

Her smile broadened. 

“A good place to start,” she agreed, enticing me with thoughts of what exactly, could be on her mind. 

“-Why don’t you be a dear for Mommy, and open that drawer beside the bed?” she directed, jutting her jaw towards the nightstand across the sheets.

I turned around, ready to scramble towards it when she made a hash, scolding sound. 

I stopped in my tracks as the blonde made another instruction. 

“ _ Crawl _ , Kitten.”

Obediently, I slowed my pace, fraught with embarrassment, arousal, and anticipation. 

I crawled through the masses of plushies, blankets, and pillows, the bed creaking as I slowly traversed its cushiony expanse.

The journey to the far side seemed far longer than it actually was, and the knowledge that the powerful, perfect woman was behind me, watching my every move made me physically wetter. 

I trembled as I struggled the drawer open; revealing a clumped mass of straps and a scent of delectable leather. 

“Pull it out,” Mom instructed; I felt a little better, sensing that she was maybe getting a little impatient too. 

I tugged a strap and out tumbled a piece of gear that looked more suitable for a tiny horse than a person, until a larger, thicker piece of leather nestled within the cluster jogged my mind enough to piece what I was looking at together. 

The hole was just a perfect size for something to be fitted through. 

And I had a feeling I knew  _ exactly  _ what that the supposed item was meant to be. 

My thoughts raced back to the odd moment we’d shared at the Totem Lathe, and the hushed, intimate atmosphere I’d wondered about in silence, as she’d guided me through my first Totem crafting. 

I realized that maybe I hadn’t been imagining the odd, secretive undertones of sensuality in the woman’s lesson. 

“Open the next drawer, Kitten,” she ordered, sending a shiver through my skin.

I opened the middle drawer to the small rumble of a little bottle rolling around inside. 

I picked it up, scanning the ‘water soluble’ and ‘glycerin free’ lubricant label with a detached interest; I set it on the top of the nightstand and automatically turned my attention to the third drawer. 

As I’d guessed, the blue, matte Totem greeted me, filling me with the knowledge that the woman had planned this all along, yet again proving that Dr. Lalonde was as cunning as she was intelligent, and I was nary but a willing pawn in her games.

I was so turned on I honestly didn’t really care; the woman was beautiful and stunning and everything I had ever wanted to have and to become, and everything else seemed utterly irrelevant.

She could've ordered me to deepthroat the damn thing and  _ choke  _ on it and I’d’ve done it happily. 

I turned around, the harness in one hand and the smooth, tapering codpiece in the other, holding them out to her with some mild apprehension. 

“Good girl,” she stated, taking the harness from me; “You can watch Mommy put it on, if you want.” 

I nodded, not wanting to miss a beat as she set to work coercising the straps and buckles into her bidding. 

The jet-black of the leather contrasted beautifully against the creamy hues of her skin. 

She finished rather quickly, leaving me happily anticipatory.

“Now be a good girl and get that ready for me,” she instructed, nodding to the totem in my hands. 

I looked down, wondering how exactly she wanted the order fulfilled, before looking back to her.

“Should I get it lubed for you?” I guessed, thinking back to the bottle. 

“Not yet,” she denied, shaking her head; the swirls of her curls bouncing faintly against her cheeks, “Mommy wants you to get the feel of it first. Get to know it really well, before Mommy puts it inside of you.” 

I swallowed down a groan that would have poured any manner of profanities from my lips and looked back down at the blue phallic toy; my concentration entirely devoted to conceptualising the waste of an example-cut cylinder as an object purely of Mom Lalaonde’s creation. 

The idea that she was going to use it on me, in me, was maddening; the more I thought about it, the more my hands strangled around it, desperately wanting it to already be inside me under Mom Lalonde’s preferential care.

I worked my hands down its length, trying to gauge how its curves and bulges were going to feel and if it would even fit, when Mom cleared her throat and caught my attention again. 

“ _ Now _ the lube, Darling,” she insisted. 

I wasted no time following her instruction and fumbled for the bottle. 

“And remember, there’s no such thing as ‘too much’ when it comes to lube,” she stated, shifting absently on her heels; “-to, with…” she added, trailing off in Freudian musings. 

I coated the thing as liberally as I could manage, the fluid dripped off the totem in globs, splattering on my knees and the sheets; my hands were now thoroughly sticky and covered as equally. 

“Good girl, bring it here,” she ordered. 

I shifted my weight and scuttled over, trying my best not to drop the totem for how  _ slippery  _ it was with its new, glossy slick sheen.

“Do you want to thread it in for me?” she coaxed, patting at the ‘O’ ring nestled on her pelvis.

I looked it over, then delicately reached out to curl my fingers around the ring; it lifted from the piece behind it, allowing for an easy installation. 

Knowing my fingers were just inches above her wet, velvety soft slit sent a new wave of flushed desire through my face; I had to double my focus on handling the phallus to keep it from slipping out and tumbling to the floor. Using my fingers already curled around the ring, I slipped it in from the back and it slid through with a gliding ease until it neared the base, where I forced another fraction through to fit it snuggly, and let my hands fall to Dr. Lalonde’s knees. 

She checked over my work, adjusting it ever so slightly before tucking the straps with an elegant flourish; I felt rather proud, though the lust of the mood made the accomplishment seem disproportionately grandiose. 

“Excellent,” she praised, looking every bit at ease with the new member as she’d been without it, inspiring me to strive for that kind of boundless confidence; “Give your new best friend a little kiss.”

Obediently, I leaned forward and touched my lips to the tip, finding it slimy-cold and firm. 

I pushed forward a smidge, and drew the tip into my mouth; it wasn’t anywhere near as tasty as her tit had been, but the idea of having  _ any  _ part of the woman in my mouth made me want to roll my hips and suck her as deeply into myself as she could fit.

Maybe moreso, than she could comfortably fit. 

My fingers dug into her hips for better purchase as I tried to scarf her down; I didn’t get as much of it in as I wanted as my reflexes started to panic, gagging at their perceived invasion with consistent rejection that I hadn’t authorised. 

Mom grabbed into my hair and pulled me free.

The totem popped out of my mouth, leaving us connected by a small, comical trail of saliva-infused lube that broke over my chin. 

“Insatiable,” she scolded as I licked my lips clean and eyed the strap again; “Mommy’s  _ very  _ impressed by your initiative Kitten, but you’re too little to suck on Mommy’s cock,” she warned, eliciting a whine from me in response; “If Mommy wants you to choke, you’ll choke when Mommy says to and  _ only  _ then, understand?”

“Yes Mommy,” I agreed, envisioning how it would feel to have her lodged irremovably in my throat. 

“Good girl,” she soothed, running a hand across my cheek; “Now, be a good Baby and lay down, Mommy wants you nice and comfy as she fucks you senseless.” 

Electrified, I backed up and crawled up to the top of the bed; I pushed and stacked the pillows and plushies into a comfier-positioned support pile, and flipped over on my back.

My heart raced in what seemed like a thousand beats a second as I watched Mom look me over, knowing that the hunger in body language was all because of me, and whatever she’d planned to do. 

Cautiously, I spread my legs a little as I followed a wave of boldness and watched in awe as Mom Lalonde put her full weight on the bed, and began an exhilaratingly slow pace up to me; her hand reached out first, gliding up along my calf, over my knee, and around my thigh. 

Her touch had me in cloud nine. 

The knowledge that her face would’ve reached my clit with ease, had my body squirming on the bunching-up sheets beneath us; the pile of fallen wizard-cats grew exponentially larger at my frenzy. 

“Such a pretty Kitty,” she purred, rubbing her hand into my thigh as she drew up onto her knees above me, sending the twirling tails of her pink scarf cascading down her back. 

I sighed happily, glowing from the praise as lowered herself over me; she reached for something in the nightstand, and I took the opportunity to mouth at the nipple tickling over my lips, unsuccessfully attempting to suckle from her again. 

When she moved back, she was poised above my hips and her hands looked shimmery-wet. 

I moaned as she finally,  _ finally _ , put her hands on me; I squirmed and swore as she palmed over my stomach, leaving wet trails that chilled instantly from the surrounding air. 

Her hands made little trips, up and down my stomach, teasing me into stronger shivers until I wanted to groan in frustration. 

She hummed a tuneless refrain and her fingers traced delicately up to my chest, where the bit of fabric I’d foolishly put on hours ago rested between us. 

I lifted my chest a smidge, pressing into her wandering hand in a silent, pleading offer. 

“We don’t want silly things like this blocking Mommy, do we?” Mom asked, her thumbs hooking around each side of the middle juncture; the sudden tug of her arms and the sound of ripping fabric struck a startled gasp from my throat as she ripped the cups apart.

My loins practically  _ pulsated  _ with responding arousal, and my nipples stiffened as my lukewarm chest was kissed by the surrounding cold. 

“ _ Much _ better,” she purred, her hand smoothing over my breast; “Every part of you belongs to Mommy,” she declared; “All of it is Mommy’s to play with, isn’t it Sweetie?” 

“Yes,” I sighed, feeling as though any other option or trace of doubt would be too ludicrous to contemplate; “It’s all yours.” 

I pushed my chest up against her hand again, enjoying the feel of her firmly pressing me back down; I whimpered as her hand slowly circled around my areolas, never quite touching my nipples while the other started messaging the side of my thigh.

She rolled and pressed over my breasts, mapping out patterns and places that made me squirm, keen, and hiss. 

She elongated the repetitions, roving over my belly and sides, back to my breasts again; pinching my nipples, giggling to herself whenever she gave them slow, stretching tugs. 

My nipples had never been more sensitive in all my life. 

My body demanded her hands explore the rest of me with the same, dedicated fervor.

“Mommy everything is restless,” I whined, hoping to feel her lower hand shift a few inches north. 

“Good,” she breathed, nearly a growl. 

I moaned another curse word and shut my eyes against the tension in my body. 

“You’re adorable,” Mom mewled, “When you’re needy and desperate for me.”

“I need you, I promise!” I protested, my hands darting up to cup Mom’s face; her exuded hunger melted into a beautiful smile and I whined until she leant close enough for me to kiss her open-mouthed and fondly. 

“I know Baby,” she promised as we stopped for air, her hair tickling my nose; our kiss left me panting and I was suddenly certain that I looked just as hungry as she sounded. 

Her hands kneaded into my chest, fingertips plying my flesh with ease; the moan it elicited from me was utterly incoherent. 

Her fingers circled around nipples and thumbed them over, giving them a focused attention that had my mouth whining and my brain blue-screening. 

“Does it feel good Baby?” Mom asked politely, as if she  _ weren’t  _ teasing me into a whimpering mess; “Do you like it when Mommy plays with your body? Do you like being Mommy’s favorite toy?” 

I struggled to form a coherent reply as her hands slipped down to my thighs and tugged them to her hips; she pressed her weight against me, nestling the totem between us, the pressure of it was an immediate influx of minute relief and aggravated frustration. 

My hips rolled against it on their own accord, eager to finally have something to rut up against; the wet-coated temperature change was an unexpected bonus of stimulation. 

I tried to keep my attention on her hands as my crotch tried to commandeer my brainpower to figure out how best to get the pressure localised on my clit. 

“Tell Mommy what you want, Kitten,” she warned, her breath falling hot and heavily near my ear; “Be cute for me.”

Her hands dug into my hips as I struck a rhythm against hers; she pinned me down and lifted herself just far enough for my movements to stop short, light-headed and ravenous, I struggled to think, and to raise my hips enough to make my crotch kiss the tip of her toy. 

“I want you in me, Mommy,” I baited; feeling both irrational and perfectly level-headed in my lust-fueled depravity. 

“You’re so cute when you’re being honest,” she chided; I took the moment to breathe as she reached over me again to pick up the lube, valiantly ignoring the innate allure of her generous breasts. 

Bottle in hand, she trickled a cold line down my navel prompting both a twitching-jerk and a high-pitched airy gasp from me in instinctual reflex.

I shuddered, enjoying the stimulation as her hands set to work smothering over my belly, spreading the slickness with played fingers until they drifted lower, lower still, until her fingers rested on the panties sticking to my dull-aching cunt. 

With nearly no effort at all, she pulled them to one side, exposing me to the open air and parted my lips with gentle, smooth strokes of her lube-laden fingers.

“So nice that you’re so wet for Mommy, Dear,” she cooed; her warm, slender fingers worked through my slit, parting my folds so the next dollop of bottled ice-cold lubrication poured on with perfect precision, forcing my groans into strangled gasps and dizzy-headed sighs as her fingering message brought me to a new, breathless level of appreciation and need. 

The slight, sticky-wet sound of her petting through my arousal had me reeling, spellbound, and dripping.

I felt as though my entire body was quaking in anticipation; I balled my fists into the sheets, unsure of how best to tether myself against the raising, breathlessly-weightlessness that seemed to be taking me over. 

Mom adjusted my hips, and then the tip of the strap was nestled between my pussy lips, feeling at once both like a victory and another confirmation that my release was still so very far from being ‘immediately right now’. 

Eager for something to latch onto, my hands scrambled around the blankets; one dug into a throw pillow while the other stumbled over one of the plush wizard-cats; my fingers balled a fist around his little cape and I whimpered. 

“Are you nervous Baby? That’s alright, Mommy doesn’t mind if you want to bring your friend,” she cooed; as she balanced, she reached over and pushed the toy onto my chest, nestling him between my boobs before ensuring my grip on him was secure. 

As she drew her hand back, she paused to thumb over my nipple, stealing another moan out of me as I arched into her touch.

“Mommy’s good little doll,” she murmured melodically, her hand trailing back down.

Her hands roped around my thighs again, aligning our positions.

Absently, my hands squished the cat in an emerging rhythm. 

With the toy she had between her legs, Mom began a slow, methodical rhythm of her own; she slid the totem against me in even strokes, tempting but not taking entry, and rewarding me in each pass by gliding over my touch-starved clit. 

With each gentle stroke to my nub, my hips jerked. 

I bit my lip to keep my mind from the brink of nonfunctioning.

Her steady gait inspired my hips to match her rhythm, lifting and shuddering as I struggled to bring myself closer to climax.

“Please Mommy,” I begged, fingers digging into the cat, the hope for any sort of relief festering through my frayed nerves. 

“You can do better than that, Babygirl,” she answered, slowing her pace as if to spite me; “Ask Mommy again.” 

Staving off my urge to whine in protest, I struggled down a breath and swallowed my pride.

“Please Mommy, fuck me,” I begged as my hips strained to find some perfect position that would magically put her already inside me. 

“Good girl.”

I sucked in a breath as her fingers dug into my hips, at the same time, I felt the tip of the totem at my entrance; I braced myself, eyes slamming shut, and  _ immediately  _ I was honed in on the sensations of my body as she began to  _ barley  _ slide it in- 

-Before shifting it back out.

I exhaled a whining, angry huff of a moan and then the pressure was back, every bit as restrained as before as she toyed with my opening. 

-And then just as my body adjusted for her, she was outside of me again.

“Fuck Mommy,  _ please _ ?” I begged, shifting my hips maddly, my nails digging into the toy cat as I rolled my face to either side and back again, finding no relief for my building tension; even looking at her only fueled my desperation further. 

“There there, Mommy will use you up, don’t worry,” Mom soothed, pressing just a bit farther into me than before; “Why don’t you put your fingers in that cute, greedy mouth? Fill it up while Mommy ruins you like you deserve.” 

My nails scraped against my cheeks and chin on their way past my lips; I only caught a finger from one hand as my other hand clutched the toy wizard-cat for dear life. 

-I was surprised at my mouth’s ability to salivate, for the amount that welled up in such a short span of time.

My groans were hardly more than fractured syllables as they tumbled through my fingers; they echoed around the lab with each repetition of Mom’s minute thrusts.

She pulled out faster than she pushed in.

Each time slid out, my body felt overcome with loss; cavernous and empty. 

Each time she was inside, a kiss of relief filled me with grateful anticipation that it would be the  _ actual  _ time she’d follow through.

She started to push in a little more, each time. 

Slow, thick, and expansive.

The gait, tortuous as it was, forced me to feel every increasing fraction in vivid sensory detail; the more she filled me the more I was flooded with relief, and a small, growing sensation of wonder at the entire experience.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Baby,” she soon ordered; impressively, her words weren’t anywhere as restrained as her breathing sounded.

My swallowed fingers drifted to my chin; my own breathing labored inversely to each gentle pull of her hands. 

“You, inside me, stretching,” I choked, cognisant that my words were barely coherent but unable to do anything about it; without thinking I brought the toy cat to my chin, stuffing my mouth with his little toy hat.

“Doesn’t it feel  _ good  _ to be fucked by Mommy?” Mom goaded, her chest starting to heave with her breathing; “Isn't it perfect being Mommy’s good little slut? Don’t worry Baby, I’ll use up  _ every  _ last inch of you, Mommy will take care of everything; Mommy knows how to treat her Babygirl-” 

As if to illustrate her point, she didn’t jerk her hips away as the toy slid in; the break from the pattern sent a new rush of awareness through my body and my hand threaded into my hair for something, anything, to grab onto while the other pulled the wizard-cat taught against my teeth, straining his hat to the point of broken stitching. 

Meanwhile the fingers at my hair curled, pulling it, and my voice mewled into elongated vowels with no discernable purpose. 

It was a strange, weird feeling; her fabricated girth splitting me open in squelching satisfaction. 

Almost painful, but not quite. 

Like a threat of overstimulation, perhaps; or else the rush of anticipation and pleasure I was feeling was being enhanced by the feeling of the bulky strap pushing my insides apart. 

I tried to focus on the sensations; cataloging my reactions with what little level headedness I could muster. 

The totem was solid and I dimly noted that while the feeling of it pushing up into me made sense, my inexperienced lust-fueled imagination hadn’t quite anticipated where the strap would be internally; the deeper it slid, the greater I felt the angle.

And then she was in; utterly probed as far and deep as our physical constraints would allow. 

I swore through the tiny wizard hat, relishing at the thickness lodged inside me. 

My thighs clenched; a wave of pleasure took me by surprise as my legs wrapped around her back, strangling Mom Lalonde’s waist, -my shoulders tried to pitch me forward, and a shudder poised me nearly jack-knifed.

“ _ Goood girl _ , Kitten,” Mom drawled; “Such a good girl, cumming for Mommy. Do it again.” 

The feral hunger in her voice split me open faster than her phallus had; almost instantly my body was quaking in a newfound climax. 

I clung to the feeling of her as my vision swam black; I gasped as the totem inside me shifted with actual speed; the plunge just as quick as its retreat. 

The jolt ripped another elongated cry from my throat; my hands scrambled around my head as my body shook into convulsions, leaving the plushy bitten between my clenching teeth; my hands found purchase on the headboard and gripped it with white-knuckled fists as my legs slid against Mom’s hips. 

She pumped into me, steady-paced and jamming.

It felt unforgiving, but the lack of uncomfortable pain signaled that even in this faster pace, Mom was looking after me. 

Knowing better than I did.

Her posture shifted as I came again, bracing over me as if she wanted a better seat to watch me cry out my orgasmic undoing. 

Under her as I was, my body continued to unwind and unravel, writhing and thrashing as each part of my body jerked and rippled and spasmed, -the wizard cat was lost to my squirming, tumbling past my breast discarded and dismissed. 

He was no doubt met with many more pushes, pillows, and corners of blankets on the floor that I hadn’t bothered to keep track of. 

It was all so much. 

I could hardly comprehend anything but my pleasure; my body climaxed in waves, smaller pulses trailing and preceding utterly elongated pinnacles that dragged on what seemed like forever, but were probably only individual minutes. 

My voice cracked; my moans were syllables and shrieks incomprehensible and unbidden.

“That’s it, cum for Momma,” Mom demanded, pushing down onto me; “Cum and don’t stop cumming until I’m done with you.” 

Her weight crushed a breath out of my lungs and my eyes began to water; her sudden shift jerked the strap inside me, shooting another bolt of pleasure through my nerves. 

I struggled to manage breathing and cumming, and gasped as Mom’s hand slid between my legs; her fingers rolled my clit as her other hand pulled my hair, crushing our mouths together in a forceful tug. 

I moaned into her as we tried our best to screw over physics and work her tongue down into the recesses of my throat. 

The pressure of her body offered mine no escape from the added stimulation to my clit; the waves climbed and stretched and echoed until the pads of my feet felt like they’d caught fire and my toes actually curled when the rest of me couldn’t.

It didn’t stop my back from trying to arch; it only made Mom push me down harder as I gasped and cried.

A few tears trailed down my cheeks and I started to stutter out a few protesting syllables.

She kept her pressure on me and though my eyes were shut, my vision flashed a color I hadn’t seen before, my panic reflex alarming through my protesting lungs as another, stronger orgasam hit me with a force that instantly convinced me that dying mid-climax would be the optimal way to go. 

Before it had even ended, Mom shifted; releasing my mouth from our kiss to push her breast to it instead; the split second served as time enough to draw in new breath, and my tongue curled around her nipple in worship before my lips drew it in, sucking it down eagerly in a near mindless passion.

The waves continued, but Mom’s hands slowed. 

Her milk offered a new point of focus, and I gulped it down greedily as my orgasams continued to ravage me. 

Slowly, my mind seemed to emerge from the haze; Mom’s hand continued to massage my clit, rolling it back and forth with a gentle rhythm.

I realized she was guiding me back down, instead of leaving me to crash back down on my own. 

I moaned into her breast, my fingers digging into her back as I pumped my hips onto her strap, not yet ready to stop our rut.

I came again, the orgasam tearing through me in a smaller, but noticeable force as I focused on the deadweight inside me stirring up my internal organs.

Mom’s hand curled around my head, holding me closer. 

“Such a good Babygirl,” she cooed, “Cumming so much for Momma; making Mommy so  _ very  _ proud of her pretty girl.” 

Helpless, I continued to rut and suckle as my body wracked under the onslaught of sensations; every aftershock prompting shivers and smaller movements until reality stopped unfolding on itself as much. 

I stopped counting the waves, or even simply attempting to differentiate between them; the waves and pitches and stretches of pleasure were all so new to me that each height recontextualized everything that feeling that came before.

“ _ Good _ Baby,” Mom cooed, her pumps being to falter in their finesse; the difference of her jerking, inelegant thrusts had my nails ravaging her back in approval; “Mommy’s  _ perfect  _ fucktoy,” she breathed, sending me spinning through another wave of maddening ecstasy. 

I started to wonder how much my body could take, and if I really would cum until I’d pass out.

I suckled more intently, pushing my face as deeply into her breast as it would go. 

“Mommy’s got you Angel,” Mom soothed, her fingers gently twisting my clit; “Just relax; give into Mommy, Baby.” 

The anxiety started to fade, leaving my body rolling back into smoother waters.

I felt exhausted; my eyes could barely focus, and opening them felt like a chore. 

My mind blipped through a hazy stage. 

I felt my movements slow. 

“Good girl,” Mom soothed, while I started to drift; “Deep breaths. Breath deep for Mommy, nice even breaths,” she insisted. 

I struggled to follow her lead, my beating heart still racing around the litany of finish lines I’d crossed. 

“You’re so easy to work with,” she lilted as my hips buckled through another fizzing of pleasure; I sucked her nipple so reflexively my teeth nearly scraped her raw. 

She hissed a quick breath before moaning, a deep and heedy sound as I hastily readjusted, my own voice keening through a needy apology. 

“It’s okay Baby, Mommy knows you’re overwhelmed,” she soothed, her fingers squeezing my clit; my muscles clenched around her strap and I whimpered through a few shuddering gulps; “You’re a good Baby, Mommy’s good little girl~” 

Her free hand started to pet my hair and then kissed it. 

The simple affection rolled a deep thrust of my hips in response; in my elation I lifted myself from the strap completely before sinking it back in with a solidified groan, the rough motion tugged at my insides just right enough to unravel me again, moaning her glory through my milk-filled mouth and air-starving lungs.

The wave refrained from dissipating; it stretched in a prolonged golden glow, that had my body quivering up to some newer height. 

I suckled happily, shifting the strap with each breath and wiggle we made; my hands warmed underneath her scarf as my nails released their bite in her skin.

“Such a good girl, Mommy’s little Darling,” Mom praised; I hummed a nonsensical tune, too focused on not wasting any of her natural nectar to exhaust myself with speaking.

“Keep breathing Baby, Mommy’s so proud of how good you’re feeling,” she continued, warming my heart and my loins; “So good and relaxed at Mommy’s breast; cumming herself thoughtless. Suckling her way to sleep,” she murmured, filling me with contentment and happy tremors. 

The weight of her kept me lightheaded; though my nose finally figured out to make good use of itself.

I felt a weird mix of electrified and exhausted, as though every fiber of my body was alive and hotwired, while my mind was steadily fading to black and dipping out of lucidness. 

I realised I was starting to fall asleep; I struggled against it, not wanting the most wonderful moment of my life thusfar to end.

“Deep breaths,” she reminded, noticing my struggle; “Keep breathing for Mommy, Kitty. Mommy knows what’s good for you, your slutty body; Mommy knows,” she soothed, kissing my hair again. 

I felt my own wetness drip along our thighs; I couldn’t stop my hips, I just kept spasming against her, each wave different than the last, each thought fuzzier than the one before it. 

I’d blink, only to realize I’d started to nod off, and the movement would shoot another wave of pleasure through my nervous system and a fresh stream of milk through my throat. 

I pulled my focus away from the totem tickling away at the inside of my tummy to the way my lungs were filling and ridding themselves of air. 

“It’s okay to relax little Angel, Mommy’s going to be right here, guiding you. Fucking you, as you fall asleep” she promised, rubbing my clit in tiny little circles; her strap shifted inside of me only slightly, as we breathed me through a series of small, jittery spikes of pleasure.

Tension fell out of my hands, and they fell from Mom’s back as my awareness faltered.

I snuggled them under her breasts and after a moment, they started to squish and knead her lovely tits, prompting more milk to gush through the breast in my mouth, and milk to spurt erratically between my fingers from the nipple my hand was fondling. 

The thicker, steadier stream started to sit heavier, inside me. 

“Mommy wants you to be happy little Darling; full cunt and empty-headed, comfortable and warm as you sink,” she moaned; “Comfortable and cute for me as you nuzzle closer, you feel protected, don’t you Darling? Fuzzy and safe while I’m inside you, slow and sleepy as my milk pours into your little tummy?”

Her lilting, husky tone was thick, oozy blanket pulling me under with easy compliance. 

I  _ did  _ feel safe.

And sleepy. 

And filled, at both ends. 

My attention faded, as I moaned into her breast; a small orgasam, nearly an aftershock, pulsed through my loins as Mom started to hum.

The tune was familiar and sweet though I lacked any capacity to focus on it; I felt myself drifting further, my awareness dwindling as my hips continued to shimmy around her member in slow, squelching spurts, everything in my world golden, pleasured, and perfect. 

I gave in to the glow, and allowed myself to drift into conceptionlessness. 

~

Consciousness was weird. 

-And my body, felt weird. 

It took a moment for my brain to catch up; everything flickered back to me in a couple of blinks; bits and glimpses of the laboratory and the pink bedset blurring into focus until I was able to see properly. 

I drank in my surroundings and realised there was something in my mouth, and a lingering tenderness throughout my limbs.

“Morning Sunshine,” Dr. Lalonde purred; the woman was lounging beside me, a few dark shapes laid coiled around the pillows and plushies around our heads. 

I blushed; the reality of our transgressions catching up to me as the woman’s nipple slid free of my drool soaked mouth with an audible ‘pop’. 

I noted that we’d shifted around some, since I’d passed out. 

I was now tucked against her side, my hands were nestled between us with my knees clamped around her thigh; her harness and strap were missing, and the absence of her fabricated member resting inside of me had apparently left an empty feeling crater inside my body cavity that I hadn’t been anticipating. 

Embarrassment flooded my system as my words echoed back to me; my rational mind disbelieve the things I’d allowed myself to say, and the inhibitions I’d allowed myself to show. 

I buried my face into the crook of the woman’s neck to keep from having to look at her face.

“Awww, somebody’s snuggly in the morning,” she tisked, laying her hand on her hip; “Did you sleep well, Pet?”

I nearly missed my opportunity to respond, as my embarrassed thoughts continued to loop; hastily, I mumbled a quick affirmative, but it didn’t have much confidence or volume behind it. 

“What was that Baby, speak up dear.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. 

“I see, you don’t want to talk to Mommy when she’s not serving you; how cruel,” the woman goaded, her tone wavering into lament; “You’ll hurt Mommy’s feelings behaving like that, after you were on such good behavior before.” 

My embarrassment teetered into abashed remorse; my desire to please the woman winning out over my semblance of self-chatisation. 

“I’m sorry Mommy,” I replied softly, a little louder than I had been; “I slept well.”

“Much better,” the beautiful woman replied, thumbing a smooth trail against my back; “I’m glad you enjoyed your nap. Did you have any nice dreams?”

“I had a dream that you were kissing me so much that my body lit up like a nuclear reactor,” I answered, feeling a bit more spritely as I fell back into the role. 

“Oh? How funny,” she murmured, lifting up my chin; her eyes were curtained by her white-blonde locks, but her smile was plush and sweet; “Mommy had a little dream where she fucked you silly.”

I licked my lips, her words bringing the dull, lingering ache in my groin to my attention. 

“How do you feel, Babydoll? Does anything hurt like it shouldn’t?” she asked, her tone smooth and serious. 

I took a moment to catalogue the various sorenessess and strains across my body, finding the phantom sensations novel and well earned. 

“I feel good,” I answered, oversimplifying. 

“That’s wonderful Sweetie,” Mom replied, tugging my face closer to kiss me proper; I melted into it, sighing into weightlessness against her supple lips. 

When we parted, I hummed; happy and content.

-The cats meanwhile, had started to stirr; a few of them unfurled to stretch or roll over. A couple of them had already hopped off the bed. 

Mom sighed, a pleasant airy sound; her fingers stroked along my scalp in formless, gentle strokes that had me mimicking her airy notes of relishment. 

My fingers started to stroke her back, smoothing over the expanses of her chest and abdomen a few times, before returning faithfully to her pretty areolas and the sensitive teats that stiffened as I toyed with them. 

Her sigh deepened, eliciting me to carry on my ministrations with a more directed fervor; my fingers thumbed and flicked until her breathing changed, striking a small, manic glee at her little loss of composure. 

Eager to see it crack a little harder, I rolled onto her, straddling her waist to better play with the parts of her that held me captivated; I pinched her nipples and earned a curt, hissing-groan, filling me with pride.

“Now Sugar, don’t play so rough with Mommy,” she warned diligently; her words already falling on deaf ears as I continued focusing on my task of taking her to the brink, “Or Mommy will have no choice but to have her way with you again, little girl.” 

I hummed a breath, acknowledging the unheaded advice as I gave her nipples a tug; a few tiny streams of milk arced and droppletted back down, inspiring me to lick her clean again.

Another moan escaped the woman, elegant and deep. 

It stirred my slit, and I rolled my hips to grind my clit against her belly as I tugged on her breasts again, this time following the arc down to the source, swallowing the nipple I hadn’t yet nursed since I didn’t want it feeling left out.

Mom’s hands gripped my thighs; she let me keep my rolling rhythm before one of her hands moved up to tangle in my hair, ensuring I’d stay latched against her tit.

I almost chortled at the implication there’d’ve been anywhere else I’d’ve gone. 

“ _ Good girl _ ,” Dr. Lalonde purred, “Mommy has more than enough to fill her pretty Kitten,” she promised. 

Happily, I settled myself more thoroughly against her, and snaked my fingers between my legs; humping my hand as the other kneaded more of the nourishing ambrosia from her breast. 

I lacked the finesse of the older woman, but I felt I made up for it with tenacity and the over-stimulated hypersensitivity still throbbing through my aching nub; my body sparked into a rising electrified state, and my slit grew slick as I rutted it up. 

“Silly girl, playing with the cunt that belongs to Mommy,” Mom warned, her nagging tone slowing my fingers; “Is that what my Baby wants? To be big enough to fuck herself ragged without her Mommy? To forget that every bit of you is  _ mine _ ?” 

I nearly choked on her nipple, half a mouthful of her delicious milk dribbled free as I lifted my head to see her disappointed facade. 

“No Mommy, I’m sorry,” I answered hastily, halting my hand. 

“No what?” she pressed, her tone convincingly stern. 

“I want you Mommy,” I promised, “I want you to fuck me and my pussy’s yours to play with.” 

“Good girl. Mommy forgives you Baby,” the woman replied, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear; “Mommy knows you’re just excited; you just always want to be nice and ready for Mommy, don’t you?” 

“Yes Mommy,” I agreed, my pitch raising to a keen; my body already yearning for me to dig my fingers back inside it. 

“I thought so,” she dismissed casually; ruffling my hair a bit before wrapping me in a hug; I leaned down again, momentarily content to keep our faces close. 

“Does Mommy’s milk make you that bratty, Babygirl?” the brilliantly talented woman cooed; prompting me to squirm almost instantly, “Does Mommy need to give you something else to suck on?”

Torn between making her happy and returning to suckle her breasts, I found myself at a loss as Mom Lalonde began to chuckle. 

She shifted, and for one lone,  _ terrible  _ moment, I thought she’d intended to push me off of her completely. 

Instead, she’d settled me lower. 

Much lower. 

So much so, that my face was met by the beautiful, intriguing sight of her glistening pussy. 

I watched as she slid her fingers down between her puffy lips, and splayed them out to reveal her engorged clitorous beckoning from its little sheath. 

She moved her fingers a bit, almost daring me with the wiggle. 

I leaned in and ran my tongue up her slit, her scent and her taste sending me into an altered state of frenzy. 

“Good girl Baby, right there,” she coaxed dreamily; I lapped at her cunt as if I was capable of eating the very air out of her sighs and eager to do it.

As limited to reality as I was, I whined my gratitude into succulent folds with devoted insistence instead; hoping it would be sufficient enough to please the older woman. 

“Such a good girl, eating Mommy out,” she moaned, forcing her hands into my hair, pushing me down deeper against her; I dug my tongue into her, lapping as deeply inside her as I could manage, hoping to lap up every last drop of this new taste she fed me.

“Fuck yes, eat Mommy’s cunt,” she hissed, digging her nails in, “Mommy’s perfect Baby; just focus on Mommy Baby, Mommy’s special treat for her special girl~”

Her fist pulled my hair, shooting a small spark of tension along my scalp that wasn’t quite pain, but felt decadently close with it; I lapped harder, faster, eager to please. 

I felt her body start to move; her hips twitched subtly as if she were holding them back and when in a breath I dared my eyes open, I saw a beautiful sight of Mom Lalonde messaging her own breast.

Hungry, my lips closed around her clit and sucked. 

Her legs locked around my back and her hips arched, her hand forcing my face flush against her wonderfully wet cunt. 

“Use your fingers Baby,” the woman pleaded; “Stick them inside Mommy, you’re doing so good-”

Forcing most of my weight onto my knees, I angled my hand under my chin and traced the sticky-wet ring of her entrance, enjoying the feeling of her trying to suck my digits in, as above it, I continued to greedily suck on her clit.

“Don’t stop Baby,” she gasped, her other hand diving into her own hair; “Push them in Babydoll, be good to Momma, don’t be nervous-”

I slipped my fingers in, her folds and insides utterly slick with her wetness, offering no resistance as she drew me in; three fingers to my knuckles, and an enticing amount of give as I tested her resistance to a fourth. 

I curled my fingers, back and forth to pull as much stimulation from her nerves as I could manage. 

“ _ -Fuck _ , God Baby, you’re so good-” she keened, her thighs crushing against my face as her hips started to balk.

Eager to taste her undoing, I sped up my pace and forwent gentility; delight and bewitching captivation heightened my attention as I felt her body twitch in greater frequency. 

I tugged her clit and Mom’s body spasmed; the rest of the cats seemed to vanish, no doubt startled by their mother’s sudden racketting. 

Mom didn’t seem to give them any mind as her hands forcefully held my head in place; she grinded out her billowing orgasam into my face, gifting me the beautiful prize of tasting perfection. 

I moaned into her, pleased with my accomplishment, and a sudden wet spurt caught me off-guard; the squirt was short-lived, but the frantic cries of her riding orgasam told me everything was apparently going just fine.

I continued my work, hoping to draw out the feelings for her as long as was physically possible, templating the way she'd done it for me, before her body started to settle and her voice dropped away. 

I slowed my hand as her hips gently gave out, and loosened my suction to better allow Mom to come down from her buzz. 

After a moment, she pushed on my face and turned her hips to dislodge me from her clit; I whined at the loss of my new favorite pacifier. 

“Gentle Baby,” Mom drawled, her speech slurred and thick with what I could only ascribe as afterglow; “C’mere Baby, Mommy’s good little girl-”

I crawled up, her hands leading me to land at her black-smeared lips. 

With a dizzying elation, I let her hands guide my hips down, her lips meeting my slit in a messy,  _ improperly  _ salacious ‘kiss’. 

The feel of her tongue was gratifying and mind-shocking; the first stroke felt so good I pitched forward, and I braced my weight against my hands. 

-Her skill almost immediately turned out to far exceeded my own; it definitely felt more like she was making out with my pussy than how I had been ‘eating’ hers just mere moments before. 

Her lips and tongue mouthed me into a keening, whining mess of need; arching back, I pawed at my breasts to work the sensations into circulation around my body.

I didn’t bother attempting to stifle my reactions this round; my moans and whining keens reached volumes I hadn’t known my lungs could get to, and the dirty, stilted-syllables and phrases that tumbled out of my mouth as she loved me with hers, left me completely unphased in the realization that under the care of Dr. Lalonde’s tongue, I truly did not care about anything other than reaching my ‘full potential’.

She kissed me over greedily, swallowing down my taste with a lust that I could only describe as ‘carnal’; I lasted through it only to come undone by the way she moaned against my overstimulated clit and then I allowed myself to ride the wave and completely shatter with it. 

I came almost silently, my body clenching up to shake furiously as Mom Lalonde hummed around her suckling ‘french kiss’ she kept me locked under. 

My clit throbbed and pulsed with my heartbeat, and every little tug of her tongue had me whimpering her moniker in increasingly shriller increments each time. 

After a prolonged moment, Mom gave my cunt a final, drolled out suckling-kiss, and released me. 

I whined a long, crack-filled, “ _ Fuck- _ ”

“Yes Baby,” Mom breathed, her body heaving under me; “Mommy’s so proud of your new word.” 

I smiled broadly, oddly proud of it too; it, my brimming confidence, and the utter disarray of our sticky-fluid moistened bodies, all seemed like particularly marvelous accomplishments. 

“Mommy, I’m messy,” I stated, wondering if we’d get to lick each other clean. 

Mom chuckled, a hint of fatigue in her pitch. 

“You’re right Angel, it’s definitely time for a bath,” the glorious woman replied, sparking my curiosity. 

She inhaled a deep breath, held it a moment, and then sat up, moving me along with her. 

Her smile was so sweet and safe that I kissed it. 

She hummed a note, and then slid off the bed; it was practically a bare mattress, for how many things had ended up on the floor. 

-More interestingly, I marvelled at how tall Mom was, even without her heels. 

Then, in what I almost took to be slow-motion, the woman unwrapped the pink scarf from her neck, allowing me to ogle the beautiful flesh underneath for the first time I could ever recall. 

She held out her hand; wordlessly, I took it in mine and slid to my feet. 

It took me a few steps to re-adjust to talking, with the new sensations of tenderness and fatigue, but she held me steady and kept her arm out for me to keep balance.

And then we were treading through the massive rows of powercells; their green glow casting a strange new feeling to my mood. 

I wasn’t quite sure what the green light inspired in me, but it wasn’t wholly unpleasant. 

Mom Lalonde led us to another teleporter pad; this one bearing insignia markings that I didn’t recognise; I only had a moment to look the unfamiliar pattern over before the signaling light flashed and we were left standing in a room that was very much  _ not  _ like any lab I had ever seen. 

It was a bedroom, in fact. 

-Or what would have been a bedroom, had it hosted an actual bed in it.

There didn’t seem to be much of the original intent left, with the apparent conversion into a home bar that had overtaken it; there were a couple of dressers and a few more black shapes curled about the bars and bottle cabinets but besides all that, the room seemed something of a dead space. 

I supposed it made sense, as I reflected how her bed had been… wherever that green-lit lab had been. 

The room did however, also have an ensuite; which Dr. Lalonde guided me towards. 

“First things first,” Mom declared, as she stepped purposefully into the bathroom, “A quick rinse, and then a soak.”

“Sounds great,” I agreed, trailing slowly behind whilst taking in the sights; aside from her lovely figure, the bathroom was also quite elegant, composed of the same white and black modernist aesthetic that reminded me of her labcoat dress. 

The glimpse of my reflection in her ornate gilded mirror looked ravished and self-satisfied. 

I smiled at it, before the sound of rushing water caught my attention. 

I turned to see Dr. Lalonde lording over a clawfoot tub, water gushing from golden-metal piping down into the pristine looking porcelain. 

-Just the  _ shape  _ of it had me itching to get and test the reclining positionability. 

Mom humed a few notes as she tested the water’s heat; l licked my lips as I waited patiently, the cold air tearing across my skin. 

“Alright,” Mom declared, straightening up to urge me over; “Water’s warm, Dear.” 

I trod over happily and climbed in, taking Mom’s offered hand as she helped me keep from toppling over; immediately the warmth of the water soothed my shivering flesh as I took a seat in the tub, the balmy water bringing me slowly back up to a more comfortable temperature. 

“Inch up,” the good Dr. tasked, as she placed a hand on my arm; I scooted forward a bit as Mom climbed in, nestling behind me. Her lovely, thick thighs coaxing around my hips as if she’d meant to corral me with them; her breasts pressed into my back as her arms wrapped thoroughly around my waist. 

“There we go,” she lilted, “Warm enough, Pumpkin? I promise I’ll get the tub filled soon, but Mommy’s got to tidy you up a bit first.” 

“Yes Mommy,” I mewled, my focus tuned to the water baptizing my face than her smooth, honey-toned words. 

“Good girl; now turn around,” she decreed; I did my best to comply without knocking into her as Mom took the shower sprayer to wield the water by hand.

Feeling amiable, I kept steady as she took hold of my chin and started her work; at near point blank range, the warmth of the water stayed localized only to where the stream scoured.

She weildied it deftly, leaving everywhere else of me more chilled than before I’d got in from the dampness. 

With the hand of hers on my body, she molded me this way and that, steadily blasting away the fluidic traces of our sins with quick, -seemingly practised, precision.

And then the warmth of the water was gone as Mom directed the water upon herself, bestowing her body the same treatment with little fanfare.

I hugged my arms around myself as I watched her, hungry for the warmth to return.

Mom flashed me a smile, her hair hanging long and flat aside her face; she clicked the button on the nozzle and passed me the wand to put away as she manhandled the faucet levers to either side of me. 

Slowly, the tub began to fill with waters clear and  _ hot _ .

I sighed with relief as the water rose up around my thighs; the sensation of it against my tired slit was utterly intriguing. 

While a little it felt worked-through and riddled with lingering excitement, the heat in the water had an almost immediate calming effect to it as well; I hummed a few notes of my own as I shifted my weight, happily welcoming the water higher. 

“Good girl Baby,” Mom cooed, her hands clutching bottles I hadn’t seen her procure; “Now, does my Darling want regular bubbles, or sparkly ones?” 

“Sparkly!” I yipped, almost instantly. 

-I’d never in my life, before knowing this woman, been a fan of glitter. 

But in that moment I was certain I’d rather have suffered freezerburn and public humiliation than disappoint her on purpose. 

“Fruity Rumpus Party it is,” she agreed, setting the other bottle aside. 

She flicked the cap and poured it liberally; a stream of glittery-red gel coiled into the rising water, staining it glitter-flecked light-pink as it bubbled around, filling the room with an overbearing aroma of strawberry, cherry, kiwi and lemon-lime. 

The bubbles, big and rotund as they were, were delightful; I buried my hands into the foaming mountain without hesitation.

Mom turned the handles, halting the water at my waist while the layer of bubbles ticked up the bottom of my breasts.

“Alright Babygirl, c’mere,” she addressed, reaching for my head; I froze, letting her move me as best suited her, complying obediently as she started working a new lather into my hair. 

“Close your eyes,” she ordered, tilting my head back to lather around my bangs. 

My neck strained a bit as she worked, but the effect of her efforts was essentially a message, and one that I was more than happy to receive; in a few moments however, she poured fresh water over my face whilst blocking it with her hand to keep it out of my eyes. 

She repeated the rinse cycle a few more times, tilting and bowing my head to rid it clean. 

I dared open my eyes, as her handling started to dwindle. 

I ran my own fingers through my hair, threading it out of my face as the beautiful woman turned her attention around on herself. 

“Let me do it!” I cried, interrupting her process to plow my hands into her suds-soaked hair.

“-Alright Dear, be gentle now,” she allowed, hunching down a bit to give me better access. 

I put more concentration into my efforts than was probably needed, but the look of contentment across the woman’s face as I worked the shampoo through her beautiful, luxurious hair enticed me to prolong the moment as long as I could draw it out. 

It was only a few moments more, that I enticed it to last before Mom hummed her satisfaction and gently set about rinsing her hair out; “Good job, Pumpkin,” she complimented, filling me with pride.

At her beckoning hand I passed her the sprayer again, facilitating the woman with a swift rinse before setting it back again.

She gave a quick little shake, her saturated curls splattering a few drops about her shoulders as the water ran off her soft, alluring face. 

Her lipstick, and the smeared stains of it on my body, were the last reversible traces that remained alongside the bruising marks and welt-scratches we’d left in our haste. 

Her empty limbs seemed an opportune invitation; I crawled on top of her lap, spreading the water up against the sides of the tub as I moved.

She welcomed me with open arms and parted thighs; I wrapped my arms around her neck and draped myself against her chest. 

“ _ Good girl _ ,” she mewled; she nuzzled her face into my own, delighting me into traded kisses and affectionate cheek rubbing. 

Her hand at my back kept me balanced as her other drifted to my chest; she kissed me deeply, her tongue internally lapping over my mouth before she drew her tongue out slowly, making me miss it. 

As she pulled back she hummed a note of pleasure and took a small cloth in hand. 

Anticipating her movements, I twisted in her lap to better expose my belly for her pleasure. 

“So behaved,” she cooed; “Such a good little girl for Mommy, making Mommy so proud,” she praised, bringing the cloth to a slow stroke along my skin. 

I let my head rest against the crook of her neck, my back at her breast; I closed my eyes and sighed deeply as she stroked the cloth in long, repeated lines of measure. 

As I sighed and hummed under her care, Mom’s other hand wrapped around my waist; I layered my arms over it, and threaded my hands between her fingers.

Slowly, her even strokes slowed and fell out of their even lines; she began wiping away at the smears of black she’d left around my neck.

“Mommy will make sure you’re all nice and clean, Pet,” she promised, her resonant tones washing over me with the same warmth of the water marinating us.

She rubbed at them intently; the cloth was a little course in such localised use, but I didn’t mind.

The hint of irritation was another sensation gifted to me by the marvellous woman, and I had every intention to drink in whatever the good Doctor would give me. 

Mom meandered the soapy cloth around my body, as if she were allowing her hand to make it into an idle stroll. 

The cloth made circular, scratch-rubbing passes around my breasts though there were no traces of her lipstick around them; my nipples pebbled and hardened under the attention, sending a slew half-stifled movements through my hips.

“My my,” Mom sang, as she gently massaged my breasts; “Lookit’ you little Love, growing so fast,” she noted, “Such a  _ big  _ girl’s chest on Mommy’s little Darling…”

Feeling brightened with pride under her focused attention, I struggled not to squirm at the bubbling feelings in my chest. 

“It’s ‘cause of Mommy’s milk,” I answered cleanly, lavishing the woman a bit of attention and affection she considerably deserved; “I’m going to drink enough to get as big and pretty as Mommy one day.” 

“Is that so,” Mom asked, her timber tone light and bemused; “Mommy think’s you’re plenty pretty already, Sweetheart.” 

I angled up to give the generous, wonderful woman an affectionately chaste kiss before settling down again.

The cloth slid lower, passing over my abdomen to scrub along my inner thighs; I moaned, my sensitive body already frazzled from the continued use I was pushing it through. 

“Behave,” she warned lightly, her lips a sweet caress against the shell of my ear.

I put a hand to either of her thighs to brace myself and attempted to remain still, my thoughts still ruminating on the woman’s earlier words.

“Am I really pretty, Mommy?” I asked, the pitch in my voice a little higher than I’d expected to hear spill out.

“Of course you’re pretty Darling, what makes you ask?” Mom asked, as the cloth rolled over my thighs. 

I struggled to think of an answer; my teeth worked over my lips as I gave the idea some thought.

-There were dozens of reasons for my insecurities, but none that didn’t feel absurd enough to cast out or safe enough to draw to Mom’s attention. 

“Is my Baby worried about something?” she asked, sitting up; my skin hyper-aware of her chest against my back, “Does my Pumpkin not know how perfect she is?”

Unable to answer, my hands drifted beside my thoughts; my fingers clasping tightly around my belly before my knees kissed closed. 

Mom tsked; embarrassment filled me, but not enough to help. 

“Princess, look at me,” she commanded, her tone even and unwavering; “Look at Mommy.”

Still self-bound, I slid down into the tub to better angle my head up; both hiding my figure under the bubble-coated glitter water and bringing my gaze to meet hers. 

“Do you trust Mommy, Kitten?”

“Yes Mommy,” I answered honestly, not quite sure where our conversation was leading. 

“Do you know that Mommy knows what’s best for you?” she asked, continuing the line of questioning, “Isn’t it easier trusting whatever Mommy tells you, because you know Mommy knows more than you?” 

“Yes Mommy,” I repeated, the waterline tickling around my chin as I spoke. 

“So if Mommy says not to touch a hot stove, or that nobody but Mommy is allowed to pet her Kitten’s special places, you know Mommy has her reasons even if you’re too little to understand them?” 

Her hand which had been clutched around my waist, had drifted with my movement to land delicately atop my collarbone; the beautiful woman stroked over my brow, tucking my bangs away. 

“So you know that if  _ Mommy  _ says something, it  _ has  _ to be true,” she pressed as she lent down, “Don’t you Kitten?” 

“Yes Momma,” I replied quietly, feeling a little awe-struck as she pulled me back up.

“Good girl,” she affirmed, turning me around to face her. 

I felt a little shy, but something like hopefulness was flushed through my cheeks. 

Mom looked me over; I stifled an urge to twitch as her eyes slowly roved over my body. 

“Now open up Baby,” she prompted, tugging on my arms; “You know better than to hide from Mommy.” 

I dropped my arm and widened my knees again; I couldn’t quite look her face-to-face, but I kept a steady sideglance through my glitter-dripping bangs. 

“There we go, _ -good girl _ ,” she praised kindly, “Just listen to Mommy, Dear. Mommy knows best.”

She placed her hands on my shoulders and looked me over again; it felt terribly more intimate than anything we’d done before. 

“It’s okay to be a little confused, Darling,” she declared, gliding her hands under my arms; “When you’re bigger, you’ll understand better.” 

“But I want to understand now!” I pleaded, practically  _ pouting  _ as her thumbs rubbed into my ribs.

“Don’t fuss,” she tutted; her hands smoothing up and down my sides; “ _ Mommy  _ thinks you’re pretty, Baby.”

“You’re just saying that,” I whined; I covered my chest again, prompting Dr. Lalonde to frown.

“Now Kitten,” she warned, her tone low and stern, “Mommy warned you about misbehaving. Mommy isn’t going to spoil her little girl if she’s going to be a brat.”   
Not caring for the consequences, or perhaps to prove my point in a burst of spitefulness I didn’t quite understand, I crossed my other arm over my chest, -as if that was some grand show of rebellion. 

Mom huffed; her hand wrapped around my chin and forced me to look at her. 

I stared at her naked lips, remembering how soft and delicious they had been to kiss. 

“Do you want to upset me, Kitten?” she asked firmly; “Are you going to make Mommy  _ force  _ you into being a good little girl?” 

I looked her over, trying to gauge how well she meant it. 

“Very well,” she sighed; “Just remember you left Mommy no choice, Pet.” 

Nearly in an instant, Mom had me pressed to the back of the tub; I squeaked, surprised by the sudden movement. In the next moment, Mom had pried my arms apart and slid her knees between mine to brace them apart. 

Suddenly, she seemed almost larger than life, and a force to be reckoned with. 

“Now then, let’s see what it is that has my Baby acting out, shall we?” she asked rhetorically; her tone bore hints of melody, but sounded a few steps from clinical.

“Could it be my Baby’s fragile, sweet little neck?” she asked, as she descended down to suckle my tender skin between her teeth. 

She kissed and sucked around, mouthing along the stretch of my throat to the hint of my shoulder; I felt the new bruises forming in her wake as she stopped. 

“-No, no it couldn’t be that,” she apparently decided while I caught my breath, “That neck had Mommy  _ longing  _ to kiss it since the first time she saw it. Mommy knew it would feel  _ so  _ good to chew on, her Baby must have known. -Yes, Mommy’s little girl must have grown it that way just to tease her.” 

Startled at the shift of her composure, I felt myself grow enamoredly compliant; I stayed quiet, as she continued.

“-Is it my little girl’s chest perhaps? Is that it Sweetie?” she asked, her mouth hovering a tongue’s lick away from drawing one between her lips; “Do you think Mommy won’t like playing with them anymore if they get too big?” 

Her hand fell to the other, her palm smoothing my breast almost flat against my self; “But that would be silly, wouldn’t it?,” Mom chuckled, bringing her other hand to toy around my unattended nipple; “That’ll just mean Mommy will have  _ more  _ of you to play with, so it can’t be that.” 

Her hands coaxed out a sigh with her massage before fingernailing neatly down, to clutch and knead over my stomach. 

“It’s not Mommy’s favorite little tummy, I hope,” she continued, her knees relentlessly keeping my hips from shifting under her touch; “This pretty little pouch that stores  _ all  _ of Mommy’s milk that Mommy makes  _ just  _ for her little girl, so she can grow up big and strong! -My little girl wouldn’t be ashamed of  _ that _ , would she? No,” Mom declared, her fingers shifting patterns to tickle me instead, causing my to yip and squeak as I twitched and twisted under her sudden attack. 

She laughed, halting the onslaught; mercifully allowing me to regain my breath; “No my Baby would be proud of her belly, like Mommy is, for doing  _ such  _ a good job keeping Mommy’s little girl nice and healthy, and for being  _ so  _ much _ fun _ for Mommy to kiss and  _ tickle _ ~”

As if to highlight her sentiment, she waggled her fingers in warning of another stimulating attack; I squeaked again and tried to shift back, a breath of anticipatory laughter in my exhalation.

She smiled, letting her fingers fall back onto the stomach that I was now oddly more comfortable with; “Maybe it’s something else,” she mulled, her hands sliding lower, into tangles of hair that had me instinctively blushing, and then lower still to part and glide along my thighs. 

“It better  _ not _ be Kitten’s pretty  _ tiger _ -stripes,” she lilted, her fingers rubbing purposefully into my stretchmarks; she fingered their lengths, something I hadn’t ever considered anyone doing, -I felt myself grow increasingly aroused at the unexpected attention. 

“Mommy would be so  _ sad _ if her Baby wasn’t happy with her markings; Mommy loves the way her Baby’s skin has so many neat patterns to trace,” she murmured; “Besides, if my Babygirl doesn’t like her stripes, then she wouldn’t like Mommy’s! -And Mommy simply couldn't stand the thought of  _ that _ .” 

“-That’s not true!” I chirped, a slight raise of panicked indignation filling me at the very thought; “You’re so pretty Mommy, I love the way you look!” 

“Really Baby? You love all of Mommy’s icky wrinkles and stretchy-marks?” she pressed, moving to cup my cheek and pull my face close to her own; “Do you want to look like Mommy when you grow up?”   
“Yes Mommy,” I yelped with a vigorous nod; “I wish to look just like you when I’m grown up!”

“-Then you must love your patterns,” she assured me, the pained notes gone from her voice; “Which makes Mommy  _ very  _ happy to hear, Pet. Let’s see, what else could it be then...”

Her face tilted downward with a slowness that allowed my mind ample time to predict what part of my body her lazer-eyed focus was drifting to. 

I inhaled a deep breath, wondering what she’d have to say about it.

Her face lifted back to mine, and her thumb brushed gently along my cheek. 

“Is it your special place, Kitten?” she murmured, her voice so soft and sad that I felt my heart skip a beat; “Do you not like it, when Mommy plays her special games with you Darling?”

“No Mommy,” I cried quickly, terrified I’d lose this strange, wonderful connection I’d only  _ just  _ gained from the woman I’d fawned over for months. 

“No?” she repeated, the hurt in her voice heart-breakingly evident. 

“-No I mean I like it,” I clarified quickly, my eyes starting to water, “Please don’t stop Mommy, I like being yours,” I begged with a crack in my timbre. 

“Oh Sweetie, that makes Mommy  _ so  _ relieved Precious,” she replied, her breath a deep, exhaling sigh; she brought her other hand to my still-damp hair and smoothed it over, her touch affectionate and comforting. 

“Mommy doesn’t even want to  _ think  _ of what she’d have to do if her Baby didn’t find comfort in completely belonging to Mommy, knowing her body was  _ Mommy’s  _ and no ones else’s,” she cooed; giving my head another pat; “It’s  _ so  _ good you understand that your place is being good for Mommy; that the little ‘flower’ between your legs is for Mommy to fuck  _ whenever  _ she wants, isn’t it Darling? Isn’t that nice and relaxing Kitten? -Not having to worry about  _ anything  _ but being Mommy’s Dolly, so fuckable and sweet?” 

“Yes Mommy,” I agreed, keenly aware of the ways my ‘special place’ was still slightly throbbing and echoing the memories of her touches; nothing I’d ever done for myself had even  _ remotely  _ compared to the responses she’d elicited in my wanton flesh; “I’m all yours and no one else’s,” I promised, pulling her hand to my slit; “You make me feel so good Mommy,” I lilted, practically keening; “I love you so much Mommy, I love feeling you inside me.”

“As you should,” she assured, her palm casually rubbing over my mound; “So my good little Babydoll likes it when Mommy fingers her; fucks her,” she stated, prompting me to bite my cheek in heightened, arousal-tinted anticipation, “-So it can’t be my Baby’s little cunny that she’s upset about, can it? No, not when Mommy makes sure to keep it nice and filled as much as her Baby can stand; what else could it be, I wonder?”

My pulse quickened as she hummed and rubbed her chin in probably-fake thought.

“-Ahhh, Mommy knows,” she answered cryptically. 

I licked my lips, awaiting her clarification. 

Her fingers drifted up from my vaginal lips and threaded into the patch of hair above them. 

“It’s this, isn't it?” she asked softly, “My little girl woke up with all this cute little peach fuzz that wasn’t there before and she was  _ so  _ surprised she got all scared and confused, didn’t she?” Mom pressed, petting it over; “My Baby girl just wanted Mommy to tell her what was going on and got overwhelmed before she could, right Baby?” 

Grateful for the out, I inhaled a shaky and nodded.

“I see,” she drawled, leaning back; she smoothed over my hair again, wetting it with fresh, thin layer of pink-tinted water; “Mommy understands Kitten, -it’s so hard growing up, isn’t it Baby? It’s just so tough being a Big Girl, isn’t it?”

I nodded again, daring to look at her face directly, though my chin had lowered without her guiding hand. 

“-This is what you have Mommy for, Kitten,” she cooed, kissing my temple; she lingered against it, nuzzling me. 

I hummed for the affection. 

“-You know that  _ whenever  _ you’re too little for something, you come to Mommy about it, don’t you, Darling?” she murmured along my nose. 

“Yes Momma,” I mewled, leaning into her nuzzling touch. 

She kissed my parted mouth, either ignoring or not caring for my sloppiness, or else finding pleasure in my eagerness for any measure of her touch.

Her mouth kissed back along my neck, nipping along it for a few bites before pulling back; I felt both soothed and jittery-restless.

“So ask Mommy about it properly, Pumpkin,” she chided. 

Nervously, I threaded my finger into my bangs and curled it around; twirling it as I turned my gaze back to the pink glittery bathwater. 

“...Mommy, I have a question,” I mewed, too embarrassed to raise my volume any. 

“Oh?” Mom sang, acting utterly innocuous; “What might that be, Kitten?”

I wasn’t sure how to ask, so I reached for her hand and brought it back to the curls on my mound.

“ _ -Ooh _ ,” Mom drawled, moaning herself breathless; a little startled and hopeful, I felt myself perk up. 

Her fingertips danced along, combing crop-circles with a renewed excitement that had me feeling a little giddy; “Mommy’s so  _ proud  _ of you kitten, growing so big; here,” she soothed, taking hold of my hand, “Let Mommy explain.”

She brought my hand to her belly and slid it down, down to the patch of vaguely kempt hair adorning her mound; my fingers grabbed into it reflexively as if my little fists simply  _ had  _ to be attached to her at all times. 

“Now you match Mommy! Isn’t that so much fun, Baby?” she squealed; “All Big Girls get hair here like Mommy,” she explained diligently. 

“I’m happy if Mommy is,” I answered softly, rubbing over her mound; she was so beautiful my entire  _ heart  _ ached; “...Are you sure you like it Mommy? I’m not ready to be a Big Girl yet,” I stuttered. 

“Oh Darling, you’ll  _ always  _ be Mommy’s little Angel no matter how big you get,” Mom promised, drawing me in for a hug; her arms crushed around me, engulfing me in what I could only describe as an ultimate love. 

-The wave of relief that washed over me was a cathartic kind of climax I didn’t know my emotions were capable of experiencing!

I nearly cried; as it was, Mom set about kissing my face to smithereens, and I was only capable of mewling and keening my delight. 

After making sure I’d become no less than  _ thoroughly  _ kissed, she paused. 

“Are you feeling better, Darling?” she asked, her tone silk-smooth and adoringly tender. 

“Yes Mommy; thank you,” I breathed. 

“That’s my good girl,” she lulled, nuzzling my face again. 

I giggled, prompting the woman to nibble along my cheek, which only made me squirm and giggle harder; she chuckled, and gave my neck a raspberry. 

I retaliated by slipping under her, sinking below the water in an attempt to appearificate on the other side of the tub. 

When I surfaced I found she’d already moved to counter me; with a screech I found myself engulfed by her again, water splashing everywhere as she grabbed hold. 

“ _ -Naughty _ girl, running from Mommy,” she cooed, leaning onto me. 

I squirmed a bit, testing her grip though I had no desire to actually break free of it. 

I giggled again, pleased by the outcome of our events. 

“Let’s get back to cleaning you up,” Mom elected, nuzzling the back of my neck; “Or else Mommy will have to bath you in  _ freezing  _ water if we take much longer.” 

“No Mommy!” I yipped, “No freezing!” 

“Then sit still and behave,” she ordered, dripping sounds behind me as she reclaimed her washcloth and wrung it anew. 

“-And Mommy knows you can only remember so much Pumpkin, but please keep in mind that ‘No Mommy’ is something Mommy doesn’t like to hear unless you’re scared or hurting, okay Pet? Mommy’s sure you can do  _ so  _ much better than such a dirty,  _ bratty  _ word.” 

“Yes Mommy I’ll remember,” I promised as I relaxed into the comfortable position of laying against Mom’s tummy, loosely splayed for her to reach anywhere she’d like; “No’s are no-no’s, Mommy said-so~” I sang. 

“ _Good_ _girl_ ,” she purred, returning the re-soaped rag to my skin; “You have to save them for when you’re overwhelmed, so Mommy understands when she’s pushed you too far; otherwise it just sounds like you’re disagreeing with Mommy to make Mommy feel bad, and that means Mommy has to stop pampering you to remind you how to be a good girl again, -Mommy will remind you as many times as you need her too Kitten, because Mommy loves you, but Mommy likes it best when she can treat you like the little Princess that you are, okay?”

“Okie-dokie Mommy,” I chirruped, enjoying the feel of the cloth running over my arms. 

“Good girl, Mommy knew you’d understand,” she praised, scrubbing down my back; “Mommy’s so lucky to have a perfect little girl like you.” 

I hummed happily as I bent forward to give her better access along my back. 

“Stand up, Kitten.”

Wordlessly, I took hold of the edge of the tub and carefully rose to my feet. 

I was instantly reminded of the cold air in the room; though the water had just begun to cool, it was still leaps and bounds more appealing than the frigid air surrounding it. 

“It’s cold Mommy,” I whined. 

“I know Honey, be brave for Mommy Kitten, she knows you can do it.”

Determination to prove her right swelled inside my chest and braced myself as best as I was able; a curt ‘yeep’ popped through my vocal cords as the washcloth slid down my back and over my butt. 

Mom sighed, her exhalation laced with affection; “You’re so cute, Pumpkin.”

“...Thank you Mommy,” I stuttered, half pleased and half apprehensive about where her little cloth was roaming. 

“One day you’ll be Big enough that Mommy will fuck you here, too,” she mused, sending an immediate blush across my face and shoulders. 

“-But, Mommy knows you’re too little yet, aren’t you Sweetie?”

“Yes-s Mommy,” I stutter-whined, remembering her dislike of the Bratty-No word; “But I trust you, and I like making you happy s-so-”

“ _ Shhhhh _ , Pet,” she soothed, tenderly scrubbing down my cheeks to the back of my thighs; “Don’t worry, Little Love; Mommy promises she’ll take you  _ every  _ way you can be taken, when she knows you’re ready. Mommy will wait to fuck you into the cute, cuddley-slut that she knows you can be until her Baby is dripping with need and  _ begging  _ Mommy to fill every hole she has; doesn’t that sound nice, Kitten?” 

“Oh-h,” I breathed, the cold-air shivers rippling into arousal-spiked anticipation; “Yes Mommy, that sounds so good,” I breathlessly agreed. 

“Mommy knew you’d think so,” she teased, finishing her bought with the cloth; “You can sit down again Baby, get nice and warm again, -Mommy’s  _ very  _ proud of how well you did for her.”

Mindful of the splashable water, I squatted back down and scooted back until I was safely nestled back into the amazing, unsurpassable woman who metaphorically held my heart and willpower in her svelte, masterfull hands. 

“Mommy’s going to give you a treat for doing so well, would you like that, Angel?” 

“Yes Mommy,” I agreed reflexively, opening my knees to both offer and entice her to Mommy’s ‘special place’. 

“Good girl Babydoll,” she breathed, nuzzling up next to my ear; my eyes blinked closed as I purred for her, beyond content for our continued enjoyment; “Such a quick learner, ready for Mommy’s touch already.” 

With a great amount of leisure, Mom ran the cloth over my mound; up and down, the light passes pressed harder and longer over my hidden nub, her fingertips parting my folds with the movements only to let them fall closed again.

“Relax Kitten,” she bayed, curling her fingers underneath the cloth; “Let Mommy take care of everything, like she should.” 

As my eyes drifted partially open, I studied the swirls of glitter dancing through the scarf-pink water and the shimmering-translucent bubbles flowing around the surface. 

My pussy twitched around her fingers; I whined as the contact of the washcloth drew out every sensation from my clit that it could endure before she nestled the fabric between my folds.

Her fingers toyed with my entrance, working the cloth as flush inside my seam as she could fit it; for a breath, she left it there as her fingertips messaged my flesh through the little pink cloth.

-Admiring her handiwork, no doubt.

“Tell me how it feels, Kitten,” she breathed, her lips eclectic along my ear. 

I moaned, already longing to be raced to the pinnacle moment; “ _ -So _ good Mommy,” I mewled; “I feel hot and squirmy and all-tingly inside,” I drawled.

“And what do you want, Babydoll?” she asked huskily, hints of her teeth pinpricks barely scraping against my neck; “Tell Mommy as best as you can, nice and cute, what you want to happen; use your  _ special  _ words she taught you.”

“Pl-lease Mommy,” I begged, “I want to cum! I want you to keep touching me until I’m all used up!” I keened, leaning into her touch as my pitch raised several octaves. 

“What? You want to come right now, so soon?” she mewed, the cloth both maddening and frustrating me to no end; “You don’t want Mommy to keep you here for hours and hours, keeping you on the edge of pleasure for so long that you forget about  _ everything  _ that isn’t Mommy’s fingers?” 

“Please Mommy I want it now I can’t wait,” I pleaded, spurring to compromise her into agreement; “I’m your little fucktoy Mommy, you can fuck me over and over for  _ hours _ !” I pointed out, hoping she could be persuaded; “Isn’t that what my little cunny is for, Mommy? For you to make me cum again and again because it’s just for you to play with?” 

“That’s right, little girl; you’re all Mommy’s aren’t you?” Mom praised, “So smart, reminding Mommy about the  _ best  _ way to treat you...” 

She suckled deep kisses into my neck, as her fingers continued their slow,  _ slow  _ dance.

“Mommy  _ please _ !” I begged, utterly eager for her. 

She hummed a growl; a with a steady, fluid movement she tugged the fabric  _ up  _ out of my crotch with deftness, the motion  _ elongated  _ and intense, - pure unbridled stimulation spiked through my hips, hoisting them up as I pressed off her thighs and ground my cunt against the moving fabric; the assault of sustained contact to my clit ascending me into a rapturous state of bliss. 

The half-moaned scream that escaped my throat ricocheted off the bathroom walls; Mom’s lips nuzzled against my ear, her breathing served as my grounding point to reality as the wave of pleasure ripped through me with a sharp, belly-arching, overly-raw orgasam.

The cloth tugged free; my eyes watered as I slowly fell back against Mom. 

“So cute,” she teased, her amusement terribly easy to feel through her breathing; “Good girl, Pet,” she praised, “Go ahead and relax again; enjoy those funny feelings in your belly and your clit as she makes sure your cunny is nice and clean after cumming so hard for Mommy just now.” 

I settled back against her, my side resting against her chest as my inner-ecstasy fell into the exhausting calm of a come-down; Mom traded arms, one of them wrapping underneath my arm to pull my body closer. 

I tilted my chin up to kiss at her face, littering the underside of her chin with affection as I felt her fingers toy between my legs again; I put my focus on breathing steadily.

Her fingers stroked softly, the washcloth making a feather-light return.

“Nice and clean,” she sang, rubbing passionately along my special fold. 

With her handiwork set about comforting my overstimulated nerves rather than igniting them, I loosened a shaky breath and took a breast into my hand; rolling one of her friendly-shaped nipples through my fingers. 

“You want a snack in our bath, little girl?” Mom asked, the softness of her strokes deepening for a swift fraction before evening out again; “You want to suckle Mommy’s milk again? You miss being inside Mommy’s tummy, don’t you? All this water reminds your body of being tucked nice and warm, safely snuggled deep inside Mommy~” 

Without waiting for me to reply, she paused her ministrations to raise her breast from my hand, tickling my lips with her teat before parting them; at first I was met with a faint weird taste, the glitter-water’s fruity rumpus smell not carrying completely into its taste, but then the deep, almondy-sweetened notes rose to their rightful power as her milk welled up, more than making up for any initial surprise. 

“Such a good girl, drinking Mommy’s milk without fussing,” Mom Lalonde cooed, cradling me perfectly; “Such a good Babygirl, behaving so well for Mommy in the bath.”

I splayed my legs as wide for her as the tub would allow; my body suddenly feeling that my residually-stimulated nethers were hardly concerned at the prospect of receiving  _ more  _ attention at all, and in fact,  _ welcomed  _ it.

My hips pitched and twitched under the water, my nerves finding the texture of the washcloth a little overbearing; my hands dipped down to ply it out of her hand as her liquid tranquility continued to bless my mouth. 

“Oh? You  _ don’t  _ want to behave for Mommy, after  _ all  _ we just talked about?” she asked, a little surprised; I guided her hand against my slit and sighed around her teat.

“Ahhh,” she drawled, “You’re all done being clean? You still want Mommy’s cummies instead,” she keyed in, clearly amused; “Mommy’s impressed with your budding stamina, Babygirl; Mommy just got your cute little cunt all nice and clean,” she insisted, taking over the movements of her fingers; she petted them along me nice and sweet. 

I hummed around her milkflow, my sigh grateful and enthused as I rubbed Mom’s fingers between my folds.

“Babygirl, Mommy doesn’t want to hurt you, are you  _ sure  _ your little cunt can take more of Mommy’s love-fucking?”

I suckled her harder, the muscles in my thighs twitching briefly, before my body calmed again. 

“Such a naughty girl,” Mom tsked, her fingertips doteful around my entrance; “I suppose it can’t be helped, can it?” she quipped, her fingertips pressing me open so softly that I sang an airy note; “My Babygirl just  _ loves  _ being used by Mommy, doesn’t she? She just doesn’t feel right if Mommy’s not inside her, treating her little body like the pretty little fucktoy that she is~” 

She slipped a finger through my parted entrance and let my muscles close around her; “Is that right Pumpkin? Is this how we should start your day from now on, latched onto Mommy’s nipple with Mommy’s finger in your cunt?”

I hummed the best version of ‘yes please,’ as I could whilst nursing the life-nourishing gland in my mouth. 

“That’s what Mommy thought, Cuddlebug,” Mom teased, snuggling down against me.

I relaxed into her embrace, enjoying the steady flow of her secretion, and the gentle probing inside my slit. 

The heat of the water had started to cool, in the wake of our bodies soaking up all its heat. 

I felt safe and contented; warm and luxurious inside her strong, tender arms, -coddled, and cared for, pressed up her perfect breast.

“Mommy’s little girl, Mommy’s pretty little Baby~” she sang lightly, her tune little more than a murmur; “Cuddly as a Kitten, slutty as a Squiddle.” 

I smiled at the assessment; drifting into a deeper contentment that threatened to lure me into another loss of consciousness from the ministrations of sex-guided sleep, saved only from the luewarm water’s increasing loss of heat. 

I attempted to press closer to her, to retain my body’s warmth. 

“Alright sugar, you’re probably as clean as you’re going to get today,” Dr. Lalonde declared; the woman took great care in readying me for movement; “Mommy’s going to pull the plug and get you a towel, -you have to let Mommy’s tit go for a moment Babygirl, just a moment,” she promised, as I whined and clutched her chest with new vigor, “-You can have it back later if you behave.” 

She used her hand to pop her nipple free and held my face at bay as she moved to undo the drain-stopper. 

As the pink, glittered water rushed and swirled away it sucked my body’s weight down with it; leaving my limbs feeling soddened and encumbered. 

-And cold.

As cold as the remaining water felt, it was enough degrees warmer inside it than without; so I leant down and tried to keep myself submerged through the remaining process as Mom Lalonde stood up and stepped out of the tub. 

I watched her receding figure in fascination as light caught on the myriads of tiny galaxies left stuck to her soft, supple skin; residual glitter freckling her with unexpected, surrealistic ethereal beauty. 

I continued to sink with the vanishing water, compressing myself to the bottom of the tub as Mom left my line of sight and thoughts of reality seeped in. 

_ Would anyone find out?  _

_ Would she lose her job? _ _  
_ _ Would I lose the opportunity to get hired? _

_ Was she going to see me again?  _ _  
_ _ -Or was this strange, wonderful dream a singular event?  _

Such concerns seemed dissonant and too separate from me to consider fully; as I tried forcing myself to sit up and fight off my lethargy, I found my priorities mostly concerned with the litany of new self-discoveries I’d been birthing. 

_ How had everything they’d done felt so natural? _

_ So…  _

_ Good? _

She wondered if she was leaning too far into this; whatever this hookup was.  __

_ But what if she never got another chance? _

_ What if she never found another woman like Dr. Lalonde? _

Like an angel born from the void of creation and destruction, Mom Lalonde was back, her presence immediately flooding my nerves with feelings of soothing, placated pleasure. 

The towel over her arm was a pristine, sterile white. 

The nearly-transparent, mout-wateringly elegant, fluff-cuffed robe wrapped around her body in a  _ kiss  _ of modesty was a dark, engulfing black.

The sheer material hardly hid anything at all, but its length and majesty suited Mom like a glove, or a second skin. 

“Up up Kitten,” the woman bayed, stopping beside the tub; she held the towel outstretched as if to catch her in it, “Mommy has to dry you off before you catch sneezes.” 

I forced myself up and took hold of her offered limbs for stability; she guided me out of the tub with as much ease as she’d guided me into it. 

“Good job Kitten,” she praised as my feet hit the floor; “You’ve gotten so good at not tripping; not that Mommy wouldn’t catch you, little Pet.” 

I should pliantly as she moved the towel around my body, thankful for her attention, but also for the dampness to leave my skin. 

I was tired of being cold. 

“Don’t pout Dear,” Mom tsked, “Mommy will get you nice warmed in a moment, -what would you like Babygirl? Do you want your blanket? Mommy will grab it for you so you can be nice and cosy, would like that?” 

“Yes please,” I mewed, wobbling on my feet as she ruffled the towel against my hair to sop up the bulk of its loose moisture. 

She popped the towel back down around my back and spun me, wrapping me inside like a damp burrito; I sniffled, feeling weirdly cowed as she stepped back. 

“Alright Baby, follow me downstairs; we’ll get you all nice and settled,” she decreed; she pressed my shoulder until I turned around and slid her hand to the small of my back. 

She guided me out of the bathroom, the tile giving way to carpet as we entered her nullified bedroom once more; she steered me towards the strange room’s exiting door and inducted us out into a narrow, but elongating hallway that turned a sharp corner and kept going. 

There was a lack of pictures on the walls for a time; we past a singular grand window as turned the bend, I paused to catch a glimpse of the forest outside, and felt a peculiar notion that the feature would look provoking by flash of lightning-light in a dark, heavy rain. 

I didn’t look long, as Mom Lalonde walked us on; the hallway opened up onto a larger room that caught me off-guard for how off-the-wall its layout seemed.

We had come to a path that split in either direction, a lone doorway on one side that looked to lead another room in the house, and against the flat of the wall along us on the other side was another door, that looked like it might somehow lead back the way the came through some other room or hallway not connected to the one we’d just traversed. 

And in front of us, the path cascaded down a flight of stairs and the rest of the area in what could or maybe should have been a normal section of space in a normal house, was devoid of flooring all the way to a far wall. 

But in that opened, empty space, the top of a large statue stood looming like some sort of grand, fanciful sentry or declaration of power. 

It was a wizard. 

A giant… stone…  _ wizard _ . 

There paintings on the wall.

Weirdly pixelated, grainy paintings.

-They were also, wizards.

I looked to the woman acting as both my date, and my guide. 

“Mommy?” I asked, unsure of what to make of  _ any  _ of what I was seeing. 

The woman huffed curt amusement and guided me forward to the sleek, black steps. 

“This way Sweetie, don’t worry; Mommy’s right here, she won't let you get lost,” she promised, setting me more at ease. 

Down the stairs I saw the bottom of the grand wizard statue level into view; I also noticed what looked to be a more normalized level of house with a front door, a few scatterings of black rugs, white carpet, couches and television. 

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a weird statue of a vacuum cleaner? Made from what looked to bronze or a patinated metal; there were dozens of smaller, knick-knack and garden-gnomed sized wizard statues decorated around the place. 

And unless the ones from the liquor room had moved, there looked to be another dozen black cats enjoying the homescape. 

All of the pets and furnishings actually made the space feel homier; like the woman actually  _ lived  _ here, and had filled the space with things she’d enjoyed. 

I smiled. 

“Alright Pumpkin, here you go,” she offered as tugged a large throw blanket from the L-shaped couch, dislodging a slumbering cat with four ears and three faces; as I watched the beast stretch and plod off in frustration Mom tugged my towel free and traded me the blanket in its stead. 

The blanket was amazingly soft and cuddly and had a giant kitten patterned into its fibers. 

Immediately, I bounded onto the couch and snuggled inside the expanse of the soft, skin-pleasing fabric. 

“Good girl,” she affirmed, laying the towel over her arm; “Now, all little girls have to eat breakfast, and Mommy’s feeling peckish. Is there something she can make for you, Princess? Do you remember what you like to munch on?”

I reached my arms out, gesturing for her breasts. 

“Yes Baby, Mommy will make sure you get lots of milk, but you have to eat solid foods now too, remember?” she coaxed, staying just far enough away from my whiny fingers that I couldn’t actually touch her pretty, perfect breasts. 

“-What about pancakes, do you like those Pumpkin? Would you eat some for Mommy if she made them for you?” 

In all other circumstances, the thought of getting free food, -and free homecooked  _ meals  _ no less, would be a no brainer for me; in this weird state that I was, I was shocked to find that I was actually considering how best to convince the woman to skip breakfast and suckle me again, or else pamper me in ice-cream and dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. 

“She’ll make them in fun little shapes~” she sang, as if the notion was some great, tantalizing delight. 

In my altered state, I was powerless to resist her ploy. 

“Yes please!” I replied, my pitch cheery and almost melodic in its own right.

“Alright Baby, pancakes it is,” she agreed.

“-In shapes!” I insisted, as if the woman who had more doctorates and degrees than an entire  _ division  _ of her colleagues would be capable of forgetting a ‘crucial’ detail in a matter of  _ seconds _ .

“-In silly shapes,” she allotted, sinking me back down onto the couch; “Now, Mommy will turn on some cartoons for you while she cooks, she’ll be right over there,” she explained, turning my attention to the continuation of room behind the couch, “So she’ll see you if you start misbehaving.” 

“I’ll be good Mommy,” I promised, feeling safe in the knowledge that my newly appointed guardian would be mere steps away, watching over me. 

“Good girl,” she praised; she drew away and walked over to the counters, pausing to pick up a remote on an endtable. She clicked a button, filling the mostly white room with a television glow and gaudy commercials. 

“Do you want Big Girl cartoons or Little Girl cartoons,” she asked, her voice belaying no bias for either choice; “There’s Squiddles, Veggietales, or Scooby Doo.”

“Scooby!” I decided; the theme song tickled at the back of my mind. 

I hadn’t seen that show in  _ years _ . 

“Alright Pumpkin,” she agreed, clicking another button; the screen flicked to stormy-night scene in what looked to a haunted castle, “Let Mommy know if it gets too scary.”

“Okay Mommy,” I agreed, already feeling myself succumbing to the mind-numbing allure of nostalgic television; the well-dressed man and the pretty girl split-up, leaving the others to search for clues. 

-I was glued. 

One of the cats hopped onto the far side of the couch; their six legs caterpillered it along the armrest until it slinked into a loafed, slow-blinking resting position.

I decided that I wouldn’t risk reaching out to it, as Dr. Lalonde hadn’t made any mention of whether or not her cat specimens were functionally tamed. 

I tried not to consider myself as a newer model to her series progression or weather with the right equipment people could be transmogrified into cats and looked back to the tv; at the dog’s worried sniveling, I wondered what sort of device Dr. Lalonde could invent to allow a feline to speak. 

Dimly, I could make out sounds of cabinet doors and ruffled pans coming from behind me; the orange-dressed girl’s glasses fell lost amongst a scuffle, -she nearly got touched by the monster as she crawled around in search of her lost headware.

The silly man and his scaredy dog screamed a lot.

The commercials were all cars and grown-ups and utterly  _ boring _ . 

-I could hear Mom humming behind me. 

As the commercial about savings and percents continued I turned and peaked up over the back of the couch; Mom’s back was to me, bent over the stove on the far side of the kitchen. 

The back of the couch resting against the set of counters was the only blockade between us. 

I looked back to the tv; the men of the television started talking about imaginary butter. 

With a scowl, I turned back around and dropped the blanket. 

I hopped up onto the countertop and slid my legs over, to dangle them above the floor, pushing one of Mom’s funny little wizard-gnomes out of the way, knocking him over and startling a cat to jump and bolt past the couch and dive behind the stairs. 

Mom spun around, a spatula aloft in one hand, her other clutching the front of her sexy, elegant robe closed.

I grinned, quite pleased with my accomplishment; “Hi Mommy!” 

The look of surprise on her face was de~ _ lightful _ . 

“...Hi Baby,” she replied, putting a hand on her hip; “Did you miss Mommy?”

I nodded, then kicked my feet as if I really  _ was  _ some carefree little tyke that I’d never once been in any of the stretches in my younger life. 

“Well, why don’t you tell Mommy what shapes you want?” she coaxed, visibly relaxed at the lack of any mishap.

“Kitty!” I yipped, swinging a foot, “And a heart, because Mommy loves me,” I explained. 

“Alright,” she cooed, turning back around; I watched her work, tracking the shimmers and changing thicknesses of her gauzy, fur-lined gown. 

Behind me, the sounds of the show caught my attention; not wanting to turn around, I elected to lay back, letting my head dangle upsidedown over the back of the couch.

Everyone was running through a hallway filled with doors, popping in and out of the different places as if every door led into every place else but not every time, and everyone was confused and somehow okay with such a blatant disregard for space-time and physics. 

The guy and his dog pretended to be the monster’s waiters. 

The monster bit down on a brick and screamed. 

The sound of Mom getting closer didn’t really register until I felt hands around my hips. 

I yipped and tried to kick my legs, but felt a body press against me. 

“You’re so cute, CunnyBunny,” she teased, holding me still; “But should know that when you tempt Mommy like this, she has no choice but to react, Kitten.”

I stopped trying to squirm as the surprise wore off; Mom pulled away and I felt one of her hands caress my mound before popping against my thigh in a swift, quick-stinging slap. 

The pain was gone before I’d even yelped a syllable, but I drew my knees to my stomach and tumble-rolled down onto the couch. 

“Now sit like you’re supposed to, Babygirl,” Mom chided, already stepping away; “Mommy’s almost done.” 

Feeling a little meeker, I exhaled and wormed back under the blanket. 

I flailed my legs absently and rolled over; finding the position both far more comfortable than being draped over the countertops, and way easier to follow the show than trying to make sense of it while being upside down. 

I tucked my arms under my chin, cushioning my face. 

The leader guy decided that they all had to set a trap. 

More commercials happened; I sighed and groaned and watched through them all until the monster got caught and his face was taken off and the old-man inside screeched about getting caught and a new show started happening. 

Men in the commercials got really excited about their fancy bottled pills. 

Ignoring them, I tried to count the number of cats throughout the vast, open concept rooms and made a few double-counts when I’d come up to around twenty. 

Some of them were close enough to make out distinguishing features; they all sported the same black colored coats, and most of them even seemed similarly sleek whilst their oddities abounded in singular or double facets to each creature, leaving some with missing features, extra features, or disproportional weights. 

-The differences between the individual clones weren’t all that differential but seeming them spread across the collective in congress painted a more interesting picture than the commercially-interrupted animatic one on the television. 

Scenes and characters and commercials; all drifted by in a slow, lulling blurr. 

The air started smelling really, really good. 

My stomach rumbled; sighs and fretted lip licking became all I could focus on until finally,  _ finally _ , Mom came out of the kitchen, a large plate in one hand and two cups in the other. 

The stack of pancakes looked almost as appatising as Mom’s body. 

“Yummy,” I noted happily, not bothering to clarify either of my sentiments as she set her deliveries on the sidetable; one of the cups was filled with wine, and the other looked creamy-white. 

Mom hummed and motioned for me to move over so she could sit at the edge of the couch. 

“Come here Pumpkin,” she asked, pulling me onto her lap; “There we go, sit up.”

I straddled her thigh, nuzzled against the bareness of her chest where the top of her robe had fallen wonderfully open; her breasts looked beckoning and nearly swollen. 

I sighed and mewled against her in affectionate contentment.

“Alright now, food first Babygirl,” she stated, reaching next to her for the plate; she had to fend off an interested cat who’d jumped to the opportunity to snitch off her plate, but Mom warded off the miniature sized beast by nudging him off the table.

Mom scoffed, the syllable harsh and crisp; it seemed to deter the creation, allowing Mom to settle down again. 

She forked a pancake and held it aloft; it looked like a cat head, with pointy ears and stuck-out whiskers. Expertly, she rested it back down and chiseled it apart with the fork, and dipped the portion into a smuttering of syrup and butter. 

“Open,” she bayed, bringing the fork near my mouth. 

I stared at it a moment, not wanting to part my lips; I turned my head, against all logic or reason. 

Mom sighed and shimmied the bite off of the fork.

“It’s alright Pumpkin, Mommy knows you’re still scared of new things,” she soothed; “Here, Mommy will fix it.” 

I turned back, half my face smooshed against her heavenly bosom, and watched as she staked a new portion, and dipped it into the creamy-filled cup. 

My thighs clenched around her leg in a jolt of arousal; my pulse budding slightly faster as I guessed what she’d done. 

She swirled the morsel around a moment, before pulling it back out. 

The soggy mass dripped familiar smelling drops down her grand, expansful chest as she held it before my lips. 

“Open,” she coaxed again, “Be good, Babygirl and open up for Mommy.” 

I opened, allowing her to tip the wetted bite past my teeth; finding the taste  _ wonderfully  _ sweet.

My tongue instantly curled around the intrusion sucked the milk laden mass until it fell apart in my mouth, allowing me to draw it down easily, down my throat. 

“ _ Good girl, _ ” Mom purred, “Such a Big Girl, eating food for Mommy.” 

I smiled and awaited the next bite. 

She cut into the cat further, and dipped another bite into the cup; in my eagerness, my hips rocked against Mom’s thigh in a tiny little motion; barely noticeable, save for the texture of her gown sliding with the slight motions of my slit.

“Open,” she bid again, another sodden pancake-bit dribbling drops to it’s way through my lips.

I bit around it more eagerly, eager for more of the taste. 

“Good girl,” she praised; “See? It’s not so bad, is it,” she tsked, already readying me a new bite; “You just needed Mommy’s familiar taste.”

She fed me the next bite with a fanciful flourish before setting the fork down. 

I whined, nowhere near full enough for her to stop. 

“Mommy wants you to try something for her, Kitten,” she explained; I kneaded my hand into the breast my face wasn’t smooshed-up against as she gently, but sternly, forced some space between us. 

Upset, I felt my face sour until she took two of her long, elegantly dexterous fingers and dipped them into the pool of buttery syrup on the plate. 

I watched transfixed as she lifted up the pooling fluid, letting the bulk of it cascade down over the sides of her fingers and back onto the plate before bringing them to her puffy-swollen nipple. 

She smeared the substance around her nipple slowly, letting me observe every rubbing-motion; milk pebbled welled up as she added a second brought to her breast, thoroughly coating it.

The rational part of my brain of course, recalled what syrup was and how it would taste; but I was so utterly not inside my rational mind that I just stared at it as if I’d never encountered it, or the other,  _ more intimate _ , fluids it was currently reminding me of. 

“Here Baby~” she sang, jiggling her sugar-coated teat.

Unable to resit the sight of her emerging milk, I leaned down and nuzzled my mouth around the engorged nub. 

My tongue was struck by the syrup, though it too, caught the notes of milk taste I’d been lured with. 

Taken with the experience, I continued to flick my tongue around her nipple; curling around it until the new sticky-trap taste was gone. 

I forwent my initial closed mouth approach and drug my tongue further, lapping over her chest without any sort of thought; I was a creature of simplicity, driven only by taste.

“ _ That’s _ Mommy’s good girl,” the woman cooed, redirecting my attention to her syrup covered fingers; I imbibed them without question, suckling them clean from the thick-sticky substance with content determination.

“ _ Good girl _ ,” she drawled; her pleasure and pride resonating  _ deeply  _ through her timbre.

She pulled her fingers free and picked up the fork again. 

She reclaimed the piece she'd originally tried to feed me…

-And stuck it in  _ her  _ mouth. 

Agasp with the shock of the  _ audacity _ , I perked up.

“ _ Mmmmm _ ,” she moaned; her other hand squeezing my hip.

I watched in abject indignation as she went to get another bite, and ate it herself,  _ again _ . 

“ _ So _ good,” she purred.

Utterly displeased, I was quick to intercept the next bite; grabbing at her wrist with my hands to tug the fork close enough for me to capture her prize. 

Mom hummed a chuckling-breath and kept the fork steady; “Good girl,” she affirmed, “Isn't Mommy’s food delicious, Babygirl?”

Having sampled them both, I learnt the strange truth that both milk and syrup were  _ amazingly  _ sweet, and that other than the fluidic texture of composition, the only real difference was that one tasted like extra sweet almond-milk and the other tasted like buttery maple-caramelization. 

My rational brain felt pleased I’d somehow re-confirmed what normal pancakes tasted like. 

I nodded, humming my answer around my determined mission to lick my chin free from all the dribbled syrup. 

She offered me another bite and slowly worked me into the pattern; cooing and coddling as she tipped the forked bits into my mouth every few moments, making sure I’d ample time to lick up, chew down, suck in, and swallow. 

I rocked my hips with each capture of new morsels offered at my teeth; more sweat-based than arousal, formed a damp spot under me on her thigh. 

“Your doing good Pumpkin, a few bites more,” she coaxed, guiding me past the mid-way of a fourth fun-shaped pancake; “You’re being  _ such  _ a Big Girl for Mommy, she’s so  _ impressed _ with how good you did Sweetie _. _ ”

Prompted by the positive reinforcement, I swallowed and bit down more a few more bites until I started feeling myself grow sluggish. 

I turned my face away from another offered piece; Mom hummed a note of acknowledgement and ate the bite herself with a loud, sticky-slick salivated-lick before putting the fork down.

“Alright Baby, you did good,” she murmured; I lifted my face up to look at her and complied when she moved to pull me back to her breakfast-coated breast; “Have Mommy’s tit as a reward Dear, you can drink as much as you want while Mommy finishes her breakfast, okay?” 

I nestled in before she’d finished lifting her breast for me.

She laughed, sounding pleased. 

“You’re so good at latching onto Mommy, Babygirl,” she mused, “Go ahead and get nice and comfy.”   
I hummed my contentment as I rolled my hips forward, allowing my weight to press my clit against her thigh as I worked her nipple as deeply into my mouth as I could comfortably maneuver it to be. 

I welcomed the milk like a returning lover; my fingers slipped down between my thighs as my eyes drifted closed. 

I listened to Mom eat; her moistened sounds blending pleasantly into the cartoons and commercials I was no longer paying attention to. 

My fingers plied into my slit, gingerly parting all my folds; I splayed them against Mom’s thigh in an idle open-cunted kiss. 

She paused her intake to sip at her red-filled glass; her cradling hand stopping its coddling against my back to pet my hair and scritch kind fingernails around my scalp as I mouthed down swaths of her milk in a near fugue-state.

“Maybe Mommy should have planned our bath for after breakfast,” Mom quipped, looking over us and the wake of our mess; “That’s alright; Mommy can wipe up the worst of it in a bit; we can take as many baths as we need to, messy girl.” 

Declining comment, I continued to exist suspended in the moment, leaving all the thinking to the older woman. 

“Once you’re full and wiped off, Mommy just might lay you down for a nap Sugar,” Mom predicted, thumbing a soft affection against the nape of my neck; “Since it looks like my little girl is getting all tuckered out from her busy morning,” she cooed. 

She craned her head to regard my face more intently; I felt the movement of it, as I kept my eyes closed and my mouth busy with repetitious joogles. 

“Later this afternoon we can see about having some playtime,” she continued, winding her trails of thought and promises aloud; “Maybe Mommy can find you some coloring books or activity pages to play with; Mommy knows how much her Babygirl likes puzzles, don’t you Princess?”

I assumed she was studying my face and movements for ovation or rebellion, but I remained content to focus on our immediately present condition. 

My fingers wormed into my entrance; my thumb prodded and rubbed around my clit. 

The wet sounds stemming from both of my mouths were almost entirely drowned out by the sounds of the cartoons filling the air with the sound effects and voices of shenanigans and tom-foolery. 

“Of course,” Mom furthered, her soft lilt meandering and patient, “You can decide what you want to do after your nap, Kitten. We’ll have  _ all  _ day to do fun things together, just you and Mommy,” she continued, sipping at her glass in the pause; “Mommy can put in a movie before dinner, or maybe one after, if her Babygirl is feeling up to trying popcorn or ice-cream; course, you might not be big enough yet for those…” she teased. 

“-And don’t think Mommy doesn’t know exactly where your little fingers are, Kitten,” she warned, before taking another drag from her glass; at the mention of them, I stilled my fingers and focused on curling my tongue around her nipple as I waited for any word of punishment.

“You’re lucky you’re too little for spankings, Pet,” Mom stated; feeling safe from any threat of reprimand, I relaxed again and absently twitched my fingertips around my entrance, still enjoying the feeling of my own slick, puffy folds. 

“But Mommy can and  _ will  _ stuff you full of strap and leave it there if you keep it up, little girl.”

I halted my fingers again, half of my lingering rational brain rife with the debate of weather I wanted to remain obedient or weather it would be as much fun spending the day with the woman’s makeshift member strapped inside me as my lust-tinged curiosity imagined the punishing scenario would be.

“Of course, you might like that too much,” she snided, her breathing curt and mirth driven; “Mommy might just tie up your pretty pawsies instead, if her Babygirl can’t keep track of them.”

Sensing that it would be a losing argument to do any otherwise, I hummed a falling note of concession. 

“Switch Baby,” Mom coaxed, tapping on my cheek; “Mommy’s getting sore on that one.”

I allowed my eyes to open sliver-wide and tugged in a final spurt before releasing her nipple; with a little wiggle I craned my neck to mouth at its twin until Mom lifted it close enough to my teeth to draw it in. 

“Good girl Baby,” she soothed; “Mommy loves you getting her nipples nice and bruised from how much you love her.”

I finished my wiggling and reluctantly stopped fingering myself to paw my hand into her breast instead, keeping the weight of it aimed towards me as I sipped. 

“You’ll have Mommy sucked nice and dry before lunchtime at this rate,” she quipped; her tone sounded pleased and possibly proud; “It’s so sweet of you to give Mommy’s boobies a break from being so heavy and swollen.”

I sighed a bit of a hum in a similar appraisal of my soon-to-be accomplishment. 

“And don’t worry Pumpkin, Mommy’s got you,” she promised sweetly; “Mommy can see you’re already starting to doze off, little one. It’s okay, sink into Mommy Baby,” she bayed, scritching new patterns along my scalp; “You’re safe with Mommy, Darling. Go ahead and relax...”

I felt my inner awareness sink down gradually, my trains of thought growing short and less congruent. 

“Don’t worry about any grown-up stuff Pumpkin,” she soothed, “Mommy will take care of everything. You just focus on being Mommy’s little angel. You can trust Mommy, Sweetie, Mommy loves you  _ very  _ much.” 

My breathing deepened.

“Such a good little Kitten,” Mom cooed, petting my hair; “Have pretty dreams for Mommy, Sweetie. Mommy wants to hear  _ all  _ about them when you wake up.” 

Soothed, safe, and loved, I drifted beyond the skin-to-skin feeling of our bodies into a weightless freefall.

“ _ Good girl _ ,” Mom sang. 

I was gone. 


End file.
